


A Child's Hell

by ResidentHothead



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe/Canon Divergence (kinda), Child Abuse, Child Cussing, Child Daryl Dixon, Cuz Merle, Gen, Homophobic Language, Mentions of past child abuse, Panic Attacks, Racial slurs, a lot of it, attempted non-con, underage drinking and smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-02 01:38:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13307682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ResidentHothead/pseuds/ResidentHothead
Summary: So what would happen if Daryl was an 8 year old in the apocalypse instead of an adult? There are like 3 other stories on this, ignore mine lmao. I'm not sure where I'm going with this.





	1. Dumbass in a Tank

**Author's Note:**

> Wow look at all this exposition
> 
> **Edit: Chapter 2 should be up real soon, I'm just finishing it up.

_"Hey, you. Dumbass. Yeah, you in the tank. Cozy in there?"_ The radio hissed and beeped.

 _"Hey, you alive in there?"_  
Rick bumped his head on the ceiling of the tank as he scrambled to his feet, desperate to reach the radio.  
"Hello? Hello?" He gasped out in a panic, eyes wide.  
The voice on the other side breathed a sigh of relief. _"There you are. You had me wondering."_  
"Where are you?" Rick asked, "Outside?" Oh, it was so good to hear another voice. Even if it had just called him a dumbass. It had been days, maybe even weeks since he had heard another voice that wasn't uuuuuung and other obnoxious groans. "Can you see me right now?" He continued to question frantically, still hopped up on adrenaline from the herd chasing him into the tank.

 _"Yeah, I can see you. You're surrounded by walkers. That's the bad news."_ The voice informed.  
He sounded young, but remained calm. Maybe about in his early 20s? Maybe even a teenager? That would be a damn shame. Someone so young living out in a world like this. But it was better that he was alive and not one of them.  
"There's good news?" Rick inquired in disbelief. What could be good about being stuck in a tank in the middle of the apocalypse. Maybe he could try and start it? Nah, that'd be too convenient.  
_"No."_  
Well fuck.  
"Listen, whoever you are. I don't mind telling you that I'm a little concerned in here." This was just getting annoying. There was no way out and this guy on the other end of the radio, God knows where he is, is fucking taunting him. What the fuck.  
_"Oh man, you should see it from here."_  
That isn't fucking helping.  
_"You'd be having a major freak out."_

This was super frustrating. Rick looked around for an exit that he knew wasn't going to be there, sighed, and spoke into the radio again. "Got any advice for me?" He was as good as dead, he knew that, but that didn't mean he'd give up. He needed to find his wife and son, make sure they were safe. That had been his mission since he... Fell... Out of that hospital bed.  
_"Yeah, I'd make a run for it."_  
Ok, now he was sure this man was trying to kill him. He was sure of it. Fuck.  
"That's it? 'Make a run for it'?" He questioned dumbfounded, wondering just what kind of idiot this guy took him for.  
_"My way's not as dumb as it sounds."_ The voice defended. _"You've got eyes on the outside."_  
Well, that was true...  
_"There's one geek still up on the tank, but the others have climbed down and joined the feeding frenzy where the horse went down."_ He explained the instructions quickly. _"With me so far?"_

"So far." Rick could only scoff. This seemed like a suicide run. A death wish. But what other choice did he have?  
_"Ok,"_ the young man on the other end of the radio continued, _"the street on the other side of the tank is less crowded. If you move now while they're distracted, you stand a chance. Got ammo?"_

"In that duffle bag I dropped out there." Rick answered. "And guns, can I get to 'em?" He asked hopefully. Those were a lot of fuckin guns.  
_"Forget the bag, ok?"_ The man hissed, trying to keep Rick from doing anything else stupid. _"That's not an option. What do you have on you?"_  
"Hang on." Rick responded, dropping to the floor so he could reach his gun and load it. After that he clambered over to the dead walker that he had joined in the tank and searched him for any other weapons to use to defend himself. Finding a grenade, he was hesitant, but stuffed it into his pocket anyway. After that, he hastily made his way back to the radio and picked it up to speak to the man on the other end.  
"I've got a beretta with one clip. 15 rounds."

 _"Make 'em count. Jump off the right side of the tank, keep going in that direction."_ The man instructed quickly but clearly. _"There's an alley up the street, maybe 50 yards. Be there."_ And that's the last instructions he gave Rick, leaving him to take action.

"Hey, what's your name?"

 _"Are you listening? You're running out of time."_ The man answered, annoyed.

"Right.." Rick whispered to himself and leapt out of the tank, beginning to shoot his way through the street he was instructed to take. Bang! Bang! Bang! He was getting almost every target he pointed at. Bang! Bang!  
"Not dead!" A young Asian man wearing a hat and a backpack yelped, pulling Rick through the gate and closing it behind them. But they got in anyway. Rick shot a few more walkers behind them before the other man pulled on his arm. "C'mon!"

Rick covered the man as he climbed up the fire escape up the side of the building, then darted up the ladder after him as soon as there was enough room to begin climbing up.  
"Nice moves there, _Clint Eastwood_." The Asian man panted out an insult once they were on a landing at the top of the ladder. "You the new sherif in town? Come to clean up the city?"  
"Wasn't my intention."  
"Yeah, whatever. _Yeehaw_." He mocked. "You're still a dumbass."  
"Rick, thanks." Rick introduced himself, holding out his hand to the other man.  
"Glenn. You're welcome." And Glenn took Rick's hand to shake. "Oh no.." Glenn looked over the edge, watching as the mob of zombies below them began pulling at the ladder. Quickly he looked up to the rest of the way up the tall building. And man was it a bitch of a climb. "On the bright side, it'll be the fall that kills us. I'm a glass half full kinda guy." He joked, starting his climb up.

Rick took one last look at the ensemble below them before climbing up after Glenn. Once at the top, they moved across rooftops until they got to a hatch in the roof, which Glenn began climbing through.  
"Back at the tank," Rick began, watching the other drop his bag into the hatch and begin to lower himself in. "Why'd you stick your neck out for me?"

"Call it foolish, naive hope," Glenn responded, "that if I'm ever that far up Shit Creek, somebody might do the same for me." And then he glanced up at Rick with a grin. "Guess I'm an even bigger dumbass than you." And down the ladder he went.  
Rick climbed into the hole after Glenn, pulling the hatch down above him and descended down the ladder into the building. They ran through the office building and out the emergency exit, where Glenn pulled out his radio. "I'm back. Got a guest. Plus four geeks in the alley." He relayed breathlessly as they ran down the stairs, stopping quickly to see a couple of geeks in their path.

In front of them a door bursted open and two people in riot gear wielding bats ran out and bashed the zombies, beating them while Rick and Glenn ran to safety. Once they were inside, the two in black gear ran back in after them, closing the door.

"You son of a bitch, we ought to kill you." A blonde woman, maybe in her thirties, forced Rick up against a box, barrel of a gun pointed right at his nose.

"Back off Andrea, c'mon." A Hispanic man reprimanded, taking off the riot gear.

"Ease up." An African American woman, who's age may be in her 40s, short hair, joined in the scolding.

"Ease up? You're kidding me, right?" Andrea hissed, her gun not lowering. "We're dead because of this stupid asshole."

" _Andrea_. I said back the hell off." The Hispanic man came to Andrea's side, towering over her slightly in a stance of authority.

Meanwhile Glenn watched on, uneasy, and Rick was doing his best to lean away from the weapon pointed at his face while still backed up against a box. Andrea's eyes began to water, eyes glued to Rick.  
"Or pull the trigger." The Hispanic goaded.  
And that's when Andrea lowered the weapon. "We're dead-- all of us-- because of you." She shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks with a look of sheer anger towards Rick.

Rick heaved out unsteady breaths, looking around at the group in front of him. "I don't understand." He began, but didn't get a chance to finish.

"Look." The Hispanic man grabbed his arm and lead him away, the rest of the group following behind them. "We came to the city to scavenge supplies. You know what the key to scavenging is?" He gave Rick a shove forwards. " _Surviving!_ You know the key to surviving? Sneaking, tip toeing in and out." He lectured as the group trailed behind him, Rick walking in front, not quite sure where he was going, but it didn't really seem to be the time to bring this up right now. "Not shooting up the street like its the O. K. Corral."

"Every geek for miles heard you poppin' off rounds." A tall and somewhat rounded African American man hissed out.

"You just rang the dinner bell." Andrea sighed as they came to a stop in a clothing store.

"Get the picture now?" The Hispanic man asked.

There were zombies clawing at the dirty and scratched up doors and windows, hundreds of them, all hungry and trying to get back in. They were beginning to break the glass with the force they were hitting against it, and the group of survivors backed away.

"What the hell were you doing out there anyway?" Andrea demanded, not crying anymore, but still angry and emotional.  
"Trying to flag the helicopter." Rick responded, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. And then the group just stared at him like he was crazy.  
"Helicopter? That's crap." The African American man denied, shaking his head. "Ain't no damn helicopter."  
"You were just hallucinating." Andrea suggested.  
"Imagining things, it happens." The African American woman concluded.  
"I saw it." Rick insisted viciously, not appreciating being treated like he was crazy. He did, he saw it. While he was riding the horse. He was chasing it, trying to flag it down when he turned a corner and ended up on walker street. They attacked his horse and that's how he got into that damn tank.

"Hey T-Dog," the Hispanic said to the African American man, changing the topic because Cowboy Cuntmuffin here was obviously out of his goddamned mind, "try that C.B. Can you contact the others?"  
"Others?" Rick asked, surprised. There were more than these five here? How many people did these people have? And hopefully none were like Andrea. He didn't need anymore guns pointed at his goddamn head today. One was enough. "The refugee center?" He asked as soon as it popped into his mind. Seemed logical.

"Yeah, the refugee center." The African American woman scoffed at him. "They got biscuits in the oven waiting for us." Wow, un- _fucking_ -called for.  
"No signal." T-Dog announced. "Maybe the roof."

Bang! There was a gunshot heard from the roof that made them jump, startling them. "Oh no," Andrea groaned, looking up at the ceiling, "is that Dixon?"

"What is that maniac doing?!" The Hispanic yelled as they all made a run for the stairs leading up to the roof. Up and up, as fast as they could, sometimes taking two stairs at a time as they raced up to the roof. "Hey, Dixon, are you crazy?!"

And the guilty party was just laughing and shooting, standing up on the edge. A man of average height, buzz cut, muscles. Dirty jeans, a leather vest, boots, leather bracelets. This man seemed dangerous. His voice was raspy, hard, and his eyes were cold despite the shit eating grin he wore. "Hey! Y'all should be more polite to a man with'a gun!" His southern accent was stronger than the others who possessed it as well, probably from the mountains of Georgia. "Huh?" And he hopped down off of the edge, holding the gun in both hands, grin never leaving. "Only common sense."

"Man, you wastin' bullets we ain't even got!" T-Dog rushed over in a fury, ready to confront Dixon. "And you're bringing even more of them down on our ass! Man, just chill!" He shouted, the Hispanic man walking on the other side of them to try and make sure this wouldn't get out of hand.

"Woah," Dixon frowned, "bad enough I got this Taco-Bender on my ass all day, now I'm gonna take orders from you?" He squared up to T-Dog fearlessly. "I don't think so bro, that'll be the day."

"That'll be the day?" T-Dog asked in disbelief. "You got something you wanna tell me?" He challenged Dixon's racist implications, anger only rising.

"Hey, T-Dog Man, just leave it." The Hispanic man tried to break it up by getting T-Dog to back down before things really got out of hand. But T-Dog waved him off. "No."  
"Alright man, it ain't worth it." He tried to dissuade. "Now Merle, just relax, ok?" Being peacemaker with a racist redneck and an angry African American on the other end of the slurs was fucking impossible. "We've got enough trouble."

Rick glanced over to Glenn, who just shook his arms, gesturing for Rick to stay out of it and let them handle it.

"You wanna know the day?" Merle asked, taking a step closer to T-Dog.  
"Yeah."  
"I'll tell you the day Mr. 'Yo'," he mocked, throwing up a gang sign just to add insult to injury, "it's the day I take orders from a nigger." The words left the redneck's lips so naturally, almost like it wasn't an insulting slur.  
"Motherfu--" T-Dog swung at Merle, but the hit was deflected, and Merle hit T-Dog straight on with the butt of his rifle.

"Hey, c'mon Merle that's enough!" This Hispanic yelled as everyone sprang into action, attempting to restrain Merle. It ended up with T-Dog getting his ass kicked, the Hispanic man getting punched a few times, and Rick went fucking _flying_ after just one hit from Merle. He was a damn raging powerhouse, able to take on multiple people at once without allowing them to even get a hit on him. The women in the group yelled and begged and pleaded for him to stop fighting everyone and stop kicking the shit out of T-Dog.

Finally he did and attempted to claim himself as leader. Almost everyone agreed, until Rick hit him with the butt of Merle's rifle, just as he'd done to T-Dog, and handcuffed the unruly redneck to the roof. After Rick introduced himself as Officer Friendly and threw Merle's drugs off the roof, he and the rest of the group devised a plan that consisted off cutting open some walkers and rubbing guts all over themselves and get to some vehicles. Glenn's red sports car distracted the walkers with the alarm while Rick's cube truck transported the group out of the store and back to camp. Excluding Merle.

"I dropped the damn key." T-Dog admitted once they were all safely in the truck, on the way back to camp. Everyone looked either startled or remorseful, though Merle wasn't exactly a group favorite. It was still a pretty fucked up situation.  
"Best not to dwell on it." Morales spoke after a long silence, looking at the guilty Rick in the driver's seat. "Merle got left behind. Nobody's gonna be sad he didn't come back." And then a pause. "Except, maybe Daryl..."  
"Daryl?"  
"His brother."

Before the conversation could continue any further, Glenn's sports car roared past them, Glenn letting out excited whoos as he past them.  
"At least somebody's having a good day." Morales commented. He's the Hispanic.

They reached camp and there was a tearful reunion. Apparently Rick's wife, son, and best friend were residents of the quarry camp. What a coincidence.

* * *

 

"Disoriented. I guess that comes closest." Everyone was huddled around the fires of the camp, keeping them to low cinders so they wouldn't draw any unwanted attention. Lori and Carl were curled up to Rick as close as possible, not wanting to lose him again. "Disoriented.. Fear, confusion-- all those things, but disoriented comes closet."

"Words can be meager things." Dale, the old man in the stupid hat commented, sitting next to Andrea and her younger sister, Amy. "Sometimes they fall short."

"I felt like I've been ripped out of my life," Rick continues, just sharing his thoughts, "and put somewhere else." He was thrown into the apocalypse late, with no warning. Woken up in a hospital bed from a coma and found that the world had gone to shit. "For a while I thought I was trapped in some in some coma dream, something I might not wake up from, ever."  
"Mom said you died." Carl looked up at his father.

Lori looked alarmed when Rick gave her a glance, but Rick reassured Carl. "She had every reason to believe that."

"When things started to get really bad," Lori began, "they told me at the hospital they were going to medevac you and the other patients to Atlanta. And it never happened."  
"Well I'm not surprised after Atlanta fell." Rick added. "And from the look of that hospital, it got overrun."

"Yeah, looks don't deceive." Shane interjected. "I barely got them out."  
"I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane." Rick thanked, looking at the man in front of him genuinely. Awkward.. "I can't begin to express it."

"There go those words falling short again." Shut up Dale.  
And after a conflict with Ed being the dumb douchebag he is, Shane sat back down with his group at his fire.

"Have you given any thought to _Daryl_ Dixon?" Dale asked out of the blue, the thing on everyone's mind that had gone unspoken until now. "He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind." Daryl wasn't exactly a group favorite either, but again, pretty fucked situation.  
"I'll tell him. I dropped the key." T-Dog suggested, shame in his voice. "It's on me."  
"I cuffed him, that makes it mine." Rick argued.  
"Guys, it's not a competition," Glenn interrupted, "I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy." They weren't sure if Daryl was racist like his older brother, but it was a good possibility since they had to have a similar upbringing.

"I did what I did." T-Dog continued with a sigh, feeling pretty shitty right now. "Hell if I'm gonna hide from him."

"We could lie?" Amy suggested.  
"Or we could tell the truth." Andrea scolded. "Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he would've gotten us killed." And that was the truth. Nothing but the truth. He was acting like a drugged up maniac, causing too much noise and kicking the shit out of everyone. Restraining him was the only answer. "Your husband did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, it was nobody's fault but Merle's." She finished, leaning over to look at Lori.

"And that's what we _tell_ Daryl?" Dale scoffed. He wasn't believing that it would be taken lightly. Daryl's blood was left behind. It was horrible. And he wouldn't be willing to have a mature discussion about the matter neither. "I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you?"  
Silence. No one could respond. "Word to the wise, we're gonna have our hands full when he comes back from his hunt."

"I was scared." Came T-Dog again. "And I ran. I'm not ashamed of it."  
"We were all scared." Andrea tried to comfort, to convince T-Dog he was blameless. But it wasn't working.  
"I stopped long enough to chain that door. Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through that-- not that chain, not that padlock. My point-- Dixon's alive. And he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us." T-Dog got up and left, leaving the group looking horrified at this confession.

_Well shit._


	2. Meet Daryl Dixon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets cray at the quarry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine tiny Daryl looking like Mingus Reedus.

 

"Mom! Dad!"

"Momma! Mommy!" Sophia and Carl called from down the hill that next morning. The men came running, Glenn, Shane, Morales, Rick and Jim while Jackie and Lori checked on the children. Armed with whatever weapons they could grab in time, the men went down to investigate what startled the kids so bad.

A walker. A walker pulling apart a deer that had been shot with a few arrows. It was eating from the throat, honestly so disgusting. Amy and Andrea had made their way down to see what all the fuss was about, and watched on in horror as the men began to kick the shit outta the walker. Poor bastard didn't stand a chance. Finally, while Jim held it down with a pitch fork, Dale chopped the asshole's head off with a clean swing of his axe. "That's the first one we've had up here." He relayed as they were settling down from their adrenaline kick. "They never come this far up the mountain." Their home wasn't safe anymore ono.

"Well they're running out of food in the city, that's what." Jim explained. They were almost calm when a branch snapped, leaves shuffled, and footsteps could be heard from the woods behind them, getting closer. Raising their guards and their weapons, the men struggled to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. Shane stepped closer with his rifle once he figured out where the noise was coming from, and was ready to shoot if need be.

And from out of the clearing stepped a little boy, startled to see all of these grown men ready to attack him. He was filthy, dirt covering every inch of him. Bruises too. His hair was a dirty blonde, golden in some areas, reaching down to his chin, swept more to one side. He could've looked innocent under all that grime. He wore a tank top and jeans a little too big for him, as well as a pair of hiking boots. He was definitely younger than Carl, smaller, skinnier. He was smaller than the rest of the kids here, now that Rick thought about it. What was unsettling was the crossbow he carried and the rope of dead squirrel strung over his shoulder. Surely this couldn't be Daryl, could it?

 

Shane let out an annoyed sigh, backing down once he saw it was just the kid.   
"Oh Jesus.." Dale mumbled, ready for the shitstorm that had been brewing since late afternoon yesterday.

"Son of a bitch!" The child cursed out, causing Rick to cringe. The kid couldn't be any older than eight or nine, why did he have such a potty mouth? The kid walked out of the woods, approaching the dead carcass with arrows sticking out of it. "That's my deer! Look at it. All gnawed on by this.. Filthy!" Kick. "Disease-bearing!" Kick. "Motherless proxy bastard!" Kick. He was a small body just full of rage. And that wasn't even the worse news the boy was about to receive.

"Calm down, son. That's not helping." Dale tried to soothe. But Daryl stormed right up to the old man, Shane holding his rifle between the two, moreso for Dale's safety than anything else.  
"What do you know about it, old man? Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to 'On Golden Pond'?"   
And Rick was amazed he even knew that reference.

Daryl let out a sigh, beginning to pull the bolts from the deer. "I've been tracking this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison." Wait, so this child was out all night, in the woods, hunting alone? What the fuck?

"What do you think?" He kneeled down, pointing to the torn out throat of the deer. "You think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?"  
"Man, I would not risk that." Shane shook his head, rifle on his shoulders now.   
And another sigh left Daryl's lips. "That's a damn shame. Well I got some squirrel-- bout a dozen or so. That'll have to do." He shrugged.

It was painful, knowing that they were about to break this rabid little boy's heart with the knowledge that his brother was brutally left behind all night. They were about to break this kid, and he didn't even know it. What's worse is that he had just brought back food for the very people who abandoned his brother. Oh shit.

Daryl was about to walk off when the severed walker head came back to life, chomping on air as it tried to find something to feast upon.  
"Oh god.." Amy cringed, and Andrea quickly lead her back up the hill to camp.   
"Come on people, what the hell?" Daryl raised his crossbow and aimed it at the head, sending a bolt straight through it's eye socket with a sickening squelching noise. Placing the toe of his boot against his forehead to hold the nasty thing down, Daryl slid out his arrow, flinging off any excess guts and gore. "Gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nuthin?" And he stalked past Rick, making his way up to camp.

The men all exchanged looks, Rick looking a little more pissed off than the rest of them before they all followed after Daryl.

"Merle!" Daryl shouted, making his way into camp. He hadn't noticed the way everyone had their eyes on him. It wasn't unusual, people always eyed him when he returned from a hunt, most likely to scope out the game he brought back. "Merle!" He called again. The rest of the group that had went to Atlanta had returned, so that meant Merle was back too. "Get'cher ugly ass out here! Caught us some squirrel! Let's stew 'em up!" He set his crossbow down and made his way to his and Merle's tent, but was stopped in his tracks by Shane, who was placing his rifle into his jeep.  
"Daryl, just slow up a bit. I need to talk to you."

And Daryl blinked, turning around slowly to look up at the ex cop. "About what?"  
"About Merle." Shane walked around to the other side of Daryl, trying really to avoid looking the boy in the face. "There was a-- there was a problem in Atlanta." He relayed, turning around, hands on hips to look down at the boy.

Daryl glanced at the other residents in the camp. The women had sympathetic expressions on their faces. Turning to face the men, so did they. They were all looking at him. Quickly, Daryl's eyes darted to the dirt he stood on, sinking into himself. "He dead?" He asked bluntly, not wanting to tiptoe around the matter.

"We're not sure." Shane answered calmly.   
And that's when Daryl's anger flared up. What the hell was that supposed to mean?! "He either is or he ain't!"  
"No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it." Rick approached Daryl, who flinched away, taking a step back. "Who are you?" He demanded with a venomous tone.  
"Rick Grimes." Rick answered calmly.  
"Rick Grimes? You got sumthin you wanna tell me?!"  
"Your brother was a danger to us all." Rick explained. "So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked into a piece of metal. He's still there."

T-Dog slowed as he approached with firewood he'd been gathering, knowing he just stepped into a shit show.

"Hold on." Daryl turned away, wiping his eyes with his wrist. He wouldn't let them see him cry. "Let me process this." And he turned back to Rick, giving him a dangerous glare, ready to either burst into tears or into flames. "You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof?! AND YOU LEFT HIM THERE?!" He shouted, hands balling into fists at his sides.

Rick paused for a second before giving a nod. "Yeah." And he couldn't even look at the child at this point, he felt bad.  
Eyes welling with tears, Daryl threw his rope of squirrels at Rick, who immediately dodged them. Daryl ran at Rick, but Shane intercepted the boy and tried to push him back, which resulted in Daryl toppling over due to the force he was bumped at.

"Hey!" T-Dog dropped the firewood, ready to step in at any moment. Rick was confused. Wait. Why were these people so scared of Daryl? He was just a child. And to answer his own question, Daryl pulled out a hunting knife from his belt and sprung to his feet.  
Rick backed away and Shane held out a hand to keep Daryl from getting too close, and T-Dog needlessly told them to watch the knife.

Daryl swiped at Rick once, missed, and swiped again, but Rick caught his arm and Shane swooped in, wrapping an arm around Daryl's neck while Rick knocked the knife free, picking it up and pocketing it. It was only then he noticed that Shane had the child in a choke hold. Really?  
Shane lowered the struggling child to the ground while he was screaming and kicking, keeping a firm grip on him.  
"You best let me go!"  
"Nah, I think it's better if I don't."  
"Chokehold's illegal!" Daryl gasped out, his oxygen now starting to be cut off.  
"You can file a complaint." Was Shane's response. Asshole. "C'mon kid, we can keep this up all day."

Rick lowered himself to Daryl's level, or, attempted to anyway, to speak to him. "I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic." He said softly. "You think we can manage that?"  
And when Daryl grunted and hissed at him, Rick moved down to look up at him, face to face, and said more sternly. "You think we can manage that?"

Daryl was hesitant, but gasped out a small "yeah", and that's when Shane harshly threw the child from his grip. Daryl gasped and heaved, now trying his best to listen to Rick as well as refill his lungs with air once more.   
"What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work and play well with others." He tried to explain to the angry child on the ground beside him, who didn't seem too keen on listening.

"It wasn't Rick's fault." T-Dog caught their attention. "I had the key. I dropped it."  
"You couldn't pick it up?"  
"Well I dropped it down a drain."  
Daryl let out a pained sigh, crawling forwards a bit before pushing himself to his feet, a fistful of sand being flung at the ground at them as he hissed out "if that's supposed'a make me feel better, it don't."

"Maybe this will." T-Dog continued. "I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn't get at him."  
"That's gotta count for something, right?" Rick asked, causing the child to briefly turn around.  
Daryl wiped his eye on the back of his hand again before waving them all off in a violent motion. "The hell with all y'all! Just tell me where he is.." And now he just sounded broken. "So's I can go get 'im."

"There's no way you're going out there, Daryl. We barely made it out of the city alive, you don't stand a chance." Glenn shook his head.   
"And Merle does?! Ya wouldn't leave a dog chained up like that in this heat, why a fuckin' person?!" Daryl countered.

"Merle was acting crazy. He definitely took something. You know, to make him--" Andrea tried to explain, but Daryl bitterly cut her off.  
"I know what drugs are, bitch! It don't matter what he was on! You still left him there!"   
And that's all it took for Shane to be on Daryl, holding the small, bare arm in a death grip. "You don't talk ta people like that, understand?" The child only squirmed in Shane's grip, refusing to meet his gaze. This seemed to anger the ex cop and he yanked Daryl by his arm to face him. "I'm talking to you!"  
Daryl's facial features froze in a look of fear, eyes welling with tears as the poor kid began to hyperventilate, trembling violently in Shane's grip, cowering away from him in a way that no one had ever seen the kid do. No one had ever gotten physical with him except for Merle. And the kid didn't back down to him.

Rick shoved his partner out of the way and knelt down, taking a gentle hold of the boy's hands. "Daryl, look at me. Take deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth." He coaxed, inwardly identifying this as a panic attack.   
Daryl took a minute to look at Rick, following his instructions. Suddenly it was just the two of them, Daryl and Rick, nobody else. It seemed like an eternity for Daryl to calm down, and Rick was ok with that. As long as the kid was ok. Pulling from Rick's grip, Daryl rubbed his now bruising arm, turning his back to the group. "Gotta go get 'im. Ain't a choice."

"Where are your parents?" Rick asked, and immediately regretted it the moment the words left his lips.  
"Haven't seen no parents." Shane scoffed. "Dixon brothers came rollin' up with guns an' a crossbow, very nearly killed us all. Merle was the one who decided to stay. The little mutant wanted to leave."  
Rick scowled at Shane. "He's a kid. Relax."  
"Kid punched your kid first day."  
And now Rick was really frowning.

Daryl shot Rick a challenging glare, as if daring him to try something after learning that he had assaulted his son. He didn't even look sorry. Just feral. "Both dead." He answered Rick's question. "Ma 'fore all this happened. Pa at the start. Jus' me and Merle. Who I'm going to get."

"I'm going back." Rick decided, earning a couple death glares from Lori and Shane, and a surprised look from Daryl.

 

* * *

 

 

"So that's your plan? You and Daryl?" Lori asked, obviously angry with her husband's decision.   
Rick took a moment to think before turning to Glenn. "I know it isn't fair of me to ask, but you know your way around. And I'd feel better if you were to come along."  
Glenn sighed, but gave a nod, agreeing against his better judgement.

"So that's it? You're going to risk 3 of our men?" Shane asked, angry with all this bullshit as well.   
"4." T-Dog stepped up. "I'm going too."  
"Why? So you can fuck up again?" Daryl bit out, ignoring the glare T-Dog gave him.  
"Rick I don't think this is a good idea."  
"We can't just leave him. He's the only family that kid has, Shane. And no one else seems too keen on taking care of him. This discussion is over."

Daryl reached his foot over Glenn and honked the horn of the cube truck a couple times. "C'mon! I ain't got all day!"  
Glenn had leaned back his seat, watching Daryl with wide eyes.   
T-Dog climbed into the back and shut the door, and Rick climbed in after grabbing some more rounds from Shane. And off they went, on their Dixon Hunting Adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm horrible with writing lmao kill me. 
> 
> Please let me know if I can do something that makes this suck less. c:


	3. Atlanta Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew sets off for Atlanta, and things don't exactly go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this took a while to get motivation for. And it took a good 6 hours of straight writing to get this all done. So that was how my Friday was spent.

"He'd better be ok," Daryl warned when he realized T-Dog was watching him, "it's my only word on the matter." And T-Dog gave a small eyeroll. This damn child knew how to guilt trip him in the most intimidating ways. And he was like, what, seven?   
"I told you, the geeks couldn't get at him." T-Dog reminded the child. "The only thing that's gonna get through that door is _us_." The cube van came to a stop and Glenn killed the engine, looking back at his passengers.   
"We walk from here." He didn't look to certain with the plan, but it's not like they had any choice. The four exited the van onto the train yard, T-Dog with the bolt cutters, Rick with his python, Glenn with his backpack, and Daryl jumped out of the back of the truck with his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

Running across the tracks, they came to a hole in the fence, which Glenn held open for them. Rick was the first to duck through, Daryl slipping in after him.  
"Merle first, or guns?" Rick asked, turning around to look at the rest of his crew.  
"Merle!" Daryl shouted, making his way past Rick, crossbow pointed upwards now. "We ain't even having this conversation!"  
" _We are_." Rick hissed out sternly, and damn that kid looked pissed. But Rick needed to make sure he ensured their survival first, or there'd be no making it to Merle, whether Daryl understood that or not. "You know the geography," he shifted the conversation to Glenn, who was now walking at his side, T-Dog on his left, "it's your call."  
"Merle's closest," Glenn panted out, "the guns would mean doubling back. Merle first."

  
It was a silent trip into one of the buildings, a few close calls, but they were all handled by Daryl and his deadly aim with that crossbow. And how silent he was on his feet whe was creeping around, Rick kept glancing around to make sure Daryl was still with them, and no matter how subtle he tried to be about it, the kid always caught him and sent a glare back at him. Shit, this kid was something else. The buildings were dark, just like Rick's last visit to the city yesterday, so Glenn had a flashlight, shining it around to light up their path. They wouldn't want to be caught off gaurd by a threat that couldn't be seen. 

Inside the clothing store, Rick held up a hand to make the others behind him stop. Turning, he pointed to his eyes and then to the female walker that had been lurking in front of them. With a nod, Daryl crouched down and slowly, silently made his way around the displays to stop in front of the walker. "Damn," he muttered, the geek gaining his attention, and he raised his crossbow to aim between her eyes, "you are one ugly skank.." As the walker lunged at him, Daryl pulled the trigger and an arrow pierced through it's rotting skull, falling to the floor with a _thump_. He walked over and yanked the arrow from her head with a disgusting squelching noise, flinging off the access guts and gore that stuck to it. And with that, they continued through the building. They were so close to Merle, Daryl's chest sank, hoping his brother would be ok after nearly 24 hours in the hot Atlanta sun. Well, not 24 hours, but he was out there a damn long time. 24 hours since he was left behind.

  
Reaching a stairway that was familiar to all but Daryl, they ran up those damned stairs as quick as they could. Rick stepped aside and T-Dog cut the chain with the bolt cutters. Rick yanked off the chain from the loop in the door and Daryl kicked that fuckin' door open, sprinting through, calling out for his brother.  
"Merle! Merle!" The rest of the crew followed close behind him, keeping an eye on their surroundings as well. Daryl's heart sunk when he didn't see his brother anywhere on the roof, Leaping off the runway instead of just going down the stairs, Daryl felt like he was going to puke or scream or cry at the sight he saw. So he opted for screaming. "No! No!" And the rest of the crew watched in horror at what had unfolded in front of them. Daryl walked back to send the meanest glare he could muster up to T-Dog through his tears. "No!"  
  
A bloody handsaw, a pair of handcuffs, a pool of blood, and Merle's seperate right hand was all that remained on the roof. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be. Merle was Merle, that motherfucker was invincible. Hell, Merle would probably outlive everyone here just out of spite and prove they were all pussies. He couldn't be.. handless?? Merle fucking needed that! Daryl could feel his breathing becoming hitched, his head spinning. He couldn't take in enough air fast enough. He could hear the others approaching, Rick coming to console the panicking boy, but Daryl let out an angry grunt and swung his crossbow around, aiming right at T-Dog's fucking head. This motherfucker left him here! They all did, really, but T-Dog was the dumb fucking clutz that dropped the damn key! But before Daryl could make the decision to actually kill another human being, he heard the sound of a gun cocking. And he knew just who had it on him. Officer Fuckhead himself. Daryl's hold on the crossbow was shaky, he was panting slightly, just so goddamn angry at this whole thing. 

When Rick saw no sign of the kid backing down, he decided maybe some persuation would work. Fuck, holding a gun to a child's head? This was fucking horrible. But one pull of that trigger and T-Dog was dead. What other choice did he have?  
"I won't hesitate. I don't care if every walker in the city hears it." And now he was threatening said child. How low could Rick Grimes get today? Hopefully that question would go unanswered, because Rick really didn't want to know. With trembling lips and watering eyes, Daryl lowered his weapon. The child looked so broken now, so helpless. And Rick knew it was his goddamned fault. Taking a moment to calm himself, wiping away the tears because this wasn't a time to cry, Daryl turned to T-Dog, speaking softly for the first time. At least, around Rick anyway.  
"You got a-a dorag or sumpthin?" T-Dog just stared at Daryl, how quick he could go from psycho to little boy, but silently he pulled a blue rag from his pocket and handed it down to the kid.

  
Taking the rag, Daryl flicked it open and propped his crossbow up against some weird pipe thing. But it was fat and almost as tall as him, so he wasn't sure what to call it. So he unfolded the rag the rest of the way and crouched down to Merle's severed hand, laying out the blue rag. "I guess the uh - saw blade was too dull for the handcuffs." He observed, lifting the limb by a finger. Merle already had large hands, but it looked even bigger compared to Daryl's tiny, child hands. And it only succeeded in making Daryl look smaller. "Ugh..." He sighed, "Ain't that a bitch?" He asked rhetorically, inspecting the horrible hack job his brother had managed. Definitely wasn't a clean cut at the wrist. But the Dixons could handle pain. It was all the brothers knew. Daryl set the hand down on the rag and began to neatly wrap it up. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with it, but it just felt... _wrong_ to leave it up here. Poor hand, all by it's lonesome. Daryl didn't want that for any part of his big brother. 

Standing up, Daryl walked over to Glenn with the wrapped hand and gestured for him to move so he could put it into Glenn's backpack. And as he did so, Glenn just looked fucking miserable. Once it was secured away, Daryl went back to observe the scene.   
"He must have used a.. tournicut??"  
" _Tourniquet_."  
"Tourniquet. Maybe his belt. Be much more blood if he didn't." And Rick was again, amazed at Daryl's knowledge. Grabbing up his crossbow, he began following the trail of blood to the other door on the roof. The rest of the group followed, and Glenn still had the expression that someone _else_ had just shit in _his_ pants and now he had to walk around in it. T-Dog made sure to grab the bag of Dale's tools though, because the passive agressiveness recieved by the old man earlier that morning wasn't something T-Dog needed to be dealing with right fuckin' now.

  
They were back to creeping around as they entered the building once again, on a new staircase. "Merle?!" Daryl shouted down the stairs, "you in here?!" His voice only echoed, there was no response. So Daryl and the crew decended down the stairs, Daryl's crossbow at the ready incase he needed it. They continued through the building, but no sign of Merle. Just some ugly walker chick with blood and guts at the mouth, which Daryl swifting took down the moment she turned around. They were in another office building, and they stalked the halls until they came across two walkers, already dead. Like, _dead_. Someone took them out. Merle.   
"Had enough in 'im to take out these two sumbitches." Daryl glanced up at Rick. "One handed." Lowering his crossbow to give himself a moment's break, he spotted a discarded wrench that was most likely the weapon used in the walkers' demise. "Toughest asshole I ever met, my brother," Daryl went on, now reloading his bow, needing two hands to pull up the damn string into place still, "feed him a hammer, he'd crap out nails." And the rest of the crew had no idea what to make of this knowledge. Gross.

  
"Any man could pass out from blood loss," Rick informed, taking the lead, "no matter how tough he is." They continued to creep through the office building, and Daryl ended up in the lead with Rick right behind him.  
"Merle!" He called out again, earning himself a disapproving glare from Rick, who now seemed to treat him as he treated the others.   
"We're not alone here, remember?" He scolded.  
"Screw that," Daryl scoffed, "he could be bleedin' out, y'said so yerself." He pressed on, T-Dog shushing the both of them. They reached some sort of kitchen looking area, seeing a gas stove still burning flames. And they were also met with a bloody belt. Merle's belt. Rick picked up some sort of sander and grimiced at the sight of it, bloody and burned clumps stuck to it.  
"What's that burned stuff?" Glenn asked.  
"Skin." Rick blinked, setting it back down. "He cauterized the stump." Glenn's back to looking grossed out.  
"Told you he was tough." Daryl quietly boasted to Rick. Damn kid seemed so proud to have Merle Dixon as his older brother, for what reason, Rick didn't know. "Nobody can kill Merle but Merle." And they were all beginning to believe this as well.

"Don't take that on faith," Rick found himself saying, forgetting that he was speaking with just a small child, "he's lost a lot of blood."  
"Yeah?" Daryl scoffed in disbelief, walking towards a window. "Didn't stop him from bustin' outta this death trap." The rest of the group trailed after him quickly, seeing the hole in the broken glass.  
"He left the building?" Glenn sounded distressed. "Why the hell would he do that??"  
"Why wouldn't he?" Daryl asked, surveying the area, making sure Merle hadn't fallen to his death. They were still a ways up. But Daryl knew Merle wasn't dead. "He's out there alone, as far as he knows, doing what he's gotta do. Surviving." And he began to attempt to locate an exit, T-Dog's head raising to watch Daryl off.  
"You call that surviving?" He didn't believe this macho shit with the Dixons, they were just assholes, as far as he was concerned. Even the little one. "Just wandering out there in the streets, maybe passin' out?? What are his odds out there?"  
"No worse than being handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks." Daryl was on him in an instant, quick to remind them of their mistake and how he was still very much angry with the whole situation. T-Dog closed his eyes and bit his tongue, because he knew he was in the wrong. Daryl kicked a milk crate over in front of Rick and stood upon it to try and get level with the officer. He wasn't quite there yet, but close enough to square up to the other man.  
  
" _You_ couldn't kill 'im. Ain't so worried about some dumb _dead_ bastard." He goaded, taking a small step closer so he was on the edge of the crate. But Rick wasn't about to be taking lip from a six year old, no way. He took a step closer, towering over Daryl. "What about a thousand dead bastards? Different story?"  
"Why don't you take a tally?" Daryl spat out. "Do what you want, I'm gonna go get him." He went to step off the crate and walk past Rick, only to be shoved back by Rick.   
"Daryl, _wait_!"   
"Get your hands off me!" Daryl cried out, falling backwards. And as Glenn tried shushing them, Daryl jumped back to his feet. "You can't stop me!" He kicked the crate away.  
"I don't blame you. He's family, I get that." Rick began. "I went through hell to find mine. I know exactly how you feel." But the truth is, he didn’t know how Daryl felt. He couldn’t even begin to know. Daryl pressed his thin lips together to form an even thinner line, eyes feeling like they wanted to water again, but he pulled himself together. "He can’t get far with that injury," the officer continued, "we could help you check a few blocks around, but _only_ if we keep a _level head_." He emphasized. Daryl swallowed, thinking for a moment before answering.  
"I could do that."

  
Rick turned to Glenn and T-Dog for their input. Like it really fucking matters what they want.   
"Only if we get those guns first." Was T-Dog’s negotiation. "I’m not strolling the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, ok?"  
   
 

* * *

  
   
"You’re not doing this alone." Rick sternly told Glenn.  
"Even I think it’s a bad idea, and I don’t even like you much." Daryl snorted.  
"It’s a _good idea_ ," Glenn argued, "ok, if you just hear me out." Rick crouched down to look at the white board flat on the floor, drawn out of the immediate surroundings where the bag of guns was located. "If we go out there in a group, we’re slow, drawing attention. If I’m alone, I can move fast." He tried to persuade, motioning down to the board. "Look." He picked up a black clip and placed it on the poorly drawn marker road on the surface of the dry-erase board. "That’s the tank, five blocks from where we are now." And he placed a crumpled up sticky note beside it. "That’s the bag of guns." Pointing to a space between a couple squares, just one square away from the clip and the sticky note, "Here’s the alley I dragged you into when we first met." Glenn glanced up at Rick. "That’s where Daryl and I will go."  
  
"Why me?" Daryl asked wearily. He wasn’t about to become walker bait here. That seemed more Glenn’s job. He still didn’t trust these assholes. After what they did to Merle, he knew they could easily leave him to the same fate.  
"Your crossbow is quieter than his gun." Glenn gestured to Rick. And Daryl accepted that answer, because he was sure that if he could, Glenn would rather Rick as backup than his little self. Glenn continued the explanation of his plan, he placed down a rectangular shaped computer chip. "While Daryl waits in the alley, I run up the street, grab the bag."  
"You got us elsewhere?" Rick asked when he and T-Dog didn’t yet come into play.  
"You and T-Dog, right?" He picked up an eraser and placed it two squares away from the clip and the note, almost oppisite of where the chip was.   
"Two blocks away?" Rick questioned, trying to figure out what was going on in Glenn’s head. "Why?"  
"I may not be able to come back the same way." He pointed out, and damn, this plan was really thought through. "Walkers might cut me off. If that happens, I won’t go back to Daryl. I’ll go forward instead," He relayed, pointing up to where T-Dog and Rick would be waiting, "all the way forwards to where you guys are. Whichever direction I go," Glenn looked back up at Rick, "I got you in both directions to cover me." Rick nodded. "Afterwards, we’ll all meet back here." Seemed simple enough. Now they just needed to put it into motion.   
"Hey dork," Daryl spoke up, "what’d you do before all this?"  
"Delivered pizzas.." Glenn answered, confused. "Why?"  
Rick gave a nod, seeing the logic behind it all. Being a pizza boy meant knowing the streets, the back streets, the quickest routes.

  
Glenn climbed down that familiar ladder that he and Rick climbed up when they had first met, the one where the Walker Mosh Pit nearly devoured them alive. Daryl was climbing down after him, crossbow slung over his shoulder once again, while the others got into position two blocks away. Once they hopped down off the ladder, they darted behind a dumpster, Daryl’s crossbow drawn now. Once the coast was clear, Glenn darted behind another dumpster, now close to the fence, Daryl right behind him, ready to cover. He quickly lowered his bow to load it, glancing up at Glenn.   
"You got some balls for a Chinaman." Was that supposed to be a compliment. Not even Daryl knew.   
"I’m Korean." Glenn corrected, throwing his flannel over his shoulder and darted out.  
"Whatever." Daryl rolled his eyes, drawing an arrow and loaded it into the crossbow, ducking down as Glenn ran out the gap between the fence and the wall. 

He waited for either Glenn to come back with the bag or the others to run up to climb back up to the roof to meet back in the office to regroup. But he heard footsteps. No, Glenn just left, it wasn’t humanly possible for the fucker to run two whole blocks that quickly, no matter how fast he claimed to be. Jumping up, he pointed his bow at the purpertraitor, a teen in a white tank top with a chain around his neck, hair short.   
"Woa, don’t shoot me!" He seemed panicked, which he rightly should be with a weapon aimed at his face. "What do you want?!"  
"I’m lookin’ fer m’brother, he’s hurt real bad. You seen him?" Daryl crept closer, aim never faultering from the teen’s head.   
"Ayudame!" The teen shouted, panicked.  
Daryl cringed, knowing damn well what shouting around here meant. Trouble.  
"Shut up!" Daryl hissed out. "You’re gonna bring the geeks down on us, answer me! _Answer me_."   
But the teen wouldn’t answer. Just kept on shouting.  
"Ayudame!" What the fuck did that even mean? Who’s Ayudame? "Ayudame!"  
Daryl hit the teen in the face with the crossbow as hard as he could manage, knocking the teen over. He was drawing way too much attention, and Daryl didn’t have time to be swarmed. He needed to find Merle! The teen tried screaming again, but Daryl clapsed his tiny hand over his mouth tightly.  
"Shut up, shut up, shut _up_!"  
  
He heard the quick footsteps behind him, but he didn’t have time to turn around before he felt himself being kicked over harshly onto the ground. He rolled onto his front in attempt to protect himself from the onslaught of kicks and, _Jesus Christ was that a bat_?? But just as suddenly as they came, they were running off.   
"That’s it! That’s the bag!"   
"Take it! Take it!"  
Glenn! Daryl, still trying to recover, sat up and pointed his crossbow at the men now attacking Glenn for the bag, and pulled the trigger. The arrow shot from the bow pierced one guy right in the ass, sending him in a screaming fit out of pain. Loading the bow whilst they were distracted, Daryl stood up and aimed again, but he couldn’t shoot again. One had Glenn trapped against his chest with a bat, and he couldn’t escape.   
"Get off of me! Get off of me!" Glenn shouted, writhing in the man’s hold as a car pulled up behind them in the street. "Daryl! Daryl!" Glenn called to the child for help, knowing he was capable. The men took down walkers to get to the car, and Daryl’s tiny legs worked to get to Glenn quickly, but he wasn’t fast enough. They piled into the car faster than Daryl preferred, and pulled away just as Daryl reached the fence.  
"Come back here! You sumbitches!" He yelled after them, but stopped himself from going beyond the fence. Walkers were blocking the way, and Daryl wasn’t dumb enough to think he even stood a chance against all of them. He yanked the broken fence back against the wall it used to be attatched to, keeping the geeks from getting in.   
  
Angrily, Daryl turned and shoved the teen against the wall right as Rick and T-Dog ran up. Nice timing, assholes..   
"Woa woa woa, stop it!" Rick ran at Daryl, pushing him back. He knew Daryl could be dangerous, and the situation was already shit, he didn’t need injured people on top of it. But Daryl wasn’t calming down.  
"I’m gonna kick your nuts in your throat!" He shouted, pointing at the teen threateningly as Rick forced him back. T-Dog had the teen pinned against the wall with one hand, and the kid looked terrified right now.   
"Let me go!"  
"Chill out!" T-Dog demanded.   
"They took Glenn!" Daryl tried to get around Rick. "That fuckin’ bastard and his fuckin’ bastard homie friends!" And Rick turned to get a look at the scared teen behind him. "I’m gonna _stomp your ass_!" Daryl screamed.  
"Guys! Guys!" T-Dog yelled to gain their attention. "We’re cut off!"  
"Get to the lab!" Rick pointed towards the ladder. "Go!" Grabbing the teen, T-Dog pulled him towards the ladder.  
Waiting on Rick to grab the bag of guns left behind, Daryl jerked his head in the direction T-Dog and the teen ran off to. "C’mon, Damn, lets go." Snatching up his sheriff hat, Rick ran to the ladder, Daryl right behind him.  
  
"Those men you were with, we need to know where they went." Rick spoke to the teen once back in the office of the lab or office building or whatever the fuck this place was.   
"I ain’t telling you nothing." The teen scoffed, blood still on his lip from when Daryl swung his crossbow at his face.   
"Jesus man, what the hell happened back there?" T-Dog asked, desperate to know how such a simple plan fell apart and went to shit so quickly.   
"I told you, this fuckin’ _turd_ and his _douchebag friends_ came out of nowhere and jumped me." Daryl angrily spat, pacing back and forth.  
"You’re the one that jumped me, _puto_." The teen instigated, trying to intimidate the child. Which was a stupid move, Daryl clearly wasn’t a kid to fuck with. "Screaming about trying to find his brother like it’s my damn fault.." He muttered once he realized Daryl wasn’t going to be scared of him.  
"They took Glenn, could’a taken Merle too!" Daryl pointed out.  
"Merle?" The teen questioned, furrowing his brows. "What kinda hick name is that? Wouldn’t name my dog ‘Merle’." Daryl growled, storming over to the teen to try and kick him in the head where he sat, but Rick lifted the kid up with a huff.   
"Damnit Daryl! Back off!" And he dropped Daryl to his feet, sighing, hands on his hips. Eyes narrowing, Daryl went to Glenn’s backpack and began digging through it until he found the blue rag.   
  
"Wanna see what happened’a the last guy that pissed me off?" Daryl hissed out, unwrapping Merle’s severed hand and threw it down in the teen’s lap. It took a moment for him to realize what it was, but he jumped up screaming when he finally saw that it was a hand. When the teen fell backwards, scrambling away, Daryl took his chance to press his arm against the teen’s neck, towering over him. "Start with the feet this time!" But before he could go any further, Rick was yanking him up again and shoved him into T-Dog’s arms, who quickly put him down because _fuck that_. Seeing how scared the teen was, Rick crouched down to him, attempting to play good cop to Daryl’s bad cop.   
"The men you were with took our _friend_." He began, "all we wanna do is talk to them, see if we can work something out." And the teen nodded. Seemed that the good cop bad cop duo really worked out. They exited the building with the teen leading back to his hideout, Daryl leaving Merle’s hand behind. There was no chance at putting it back on now, even if they could’ve. It’d been too long. Still, Daryl could tell Merle would be proud that he still got one last use outta that hand, even if it was no longer attatched to him.

  
The place they arrived at was a real shithole. Run down brick building with bricks missing here and there, chipped, spraypainted, faded, debris littered throughout the overgrown weeds. Hiding behind a wall, the three remaining members of the crew loaded their weapons while weed neck tattoo here sat on the grass and waited.  
"You sure you’re up for this?" Rick asked T-Dog, who nodded.  
"Yeah."  
"Okay." And T-Dog headed off with the bag of guns.  
"One wrong move," Daryl began, "you get an arrow in the ass, just so you know."  
"G’s gonna take the arrow outta _my_ ass, and shove it up _yours,_ just so _you_ know." The teen spat back.  
"G?" Rick asked.  
"Guillermo. He’s the man here."  
"Ok then." Rick turned to look at Daryl, who he was now eye level with due to being crouched down, cocking his gun. "Let’s go see Guillermo." Rick ducked in through a window with broken bars to the littered courtyard, Daryl kicking the teen in the bum to get him up and moving. Once he was through, Rick pushed him in front to lead the way, both him and Daryl ready with their weapons as they began approaching the door.   
The doors slid open with some loud metalwork despite them being made out of wood, and the teen stood in front, Daryl and Rick on either side behind him, shotgun and crossbow raised.  
  
There were many men behind the door, and a hispanic with hair a little longer than a buzz cut stepped out and over to the teen.  
"You ok, little man?"  
"They’re gonna cut off my fee, _carnal_." The teen informed, distressed.   
And the hispanic man looked disgusted.|  
"Cops do that?"  
"Not him," the teen corrected, "this redneck _puto_ here." He motioned back to Daryl. And when the other man didn’t look convinced, staring at the child weilding the crossbow, the teen elaborated. "Cut off some dude’s hand, man. He showed it to me!"  
"Shut up!" Daryl hissed out.  
"Hey! That’s that _vato_ _right there, homes_!" A familiar man stepped out, one of the men from the alley. "He shot me in the ass with an arrow, man!"  
And now Daryl’s crossbow is raised at the man, looking through it’s scope, looking tense. These men were quick to all glare at him, and it made Daryl feel uneasy. Especially cuz he now had a gun pointed at Daryl. "What’s up, homes, huh?" But the first man pushed his hand down.   
"Chill, ese, chill. Chill." He calmed. "This true?" The man turned to Rick. "He wants Miguelito’s feet? That’s pretty sick, man. Especially for a baby."  
"Ain’t no baby!" Daryl hissed out.  
Rick shot a glare to Daryl meaning _shut up_ , and turned back to the men in front of him.  
"We were hoping more for a calm discussion."  
"That lil’ hillbilly jumps Felipe’s little cousin, beats on him, threatens to cut off his feet, Felipe gets an arrow in the ass and you want a calm discussion?" The man asked, not sounding too convinced. "You facinate me."  
  
"Heat of the moment." Rick defended. "Mistakes were made. On _both_ sides."  
The man gestured to Daryl with a jerk of his chin.   
"Who’s that little kid to you anyway? You don’t look related."  
"He’s one of our group," Rick informed, " _more or less_. I’m sure you have a few like him."  
"You got my brother in there?" Daryl asked, inching closer. "Adult guy. Could knock y’all on yer ass any other day."  
"Sorry," the man apologized sarcastically, "we’re fresh outta white boys. But we got _Asian_. You interested?"  
"I have on of yours, you have one of mine." Rick pointed out. "Sounds like an even trade."   
"Don’t sound even to me."  
"G.." The teen pleaded. So this was G. It was implied before, but now it was confirmed. "C’mon man."  
"My people got attacked." G continued, "Where’s the compensation for their pain and suffering? More to the point, where’s my bag of guns?"   
"Guns?" Rick asked.  
"The bag Miguel saw in the street. The bag Felipe and Jorge were going back to get." Man, if Merle were here, they’d already be dead. So many Spanish names.. "That bag of guns."  
"You’re mistaken." Rick informed.  
"I don’t think so."  
" _About it being yours_. It’s _my_ bag of guns."  
"The bag was in the street," G countered, "anyone could come around and say it was theirs. I’m supposed’a take your word?" And when Rick didn’t answer, G continued. "What’s to stop my people from unloading on you right here and now, and I take what’s mine?"  
  
Daryl’s breathing hitched again, gripping his crossbow tighter, fidgeting as the other men stepped closer with their weapons. But Rick shushed him, trying to calm him a bit. They had planned for this.  
"You could do that." Rick motioned up to the rooftops where T-Dog was hiding, gun pointed right at G. "Or _not_."   
G glanced up, eyes narrowing at T-Dog up there, who was looking at him through the scope of his rifle.   
"Oye!" G called, motioning up to his own rooftop surprise. Two men brought Glenn over to the edge of the roof, yanking a sack off of his head but his mouth was still taped. Glenn panicked slightly, eyes wide at the sight below him. It was a long way down.  
"I see two options." G began, now that they were back on equal grounds again. "You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns, everybody walks. Or you come back locked and loaded, we’ll see which side spills more blood." And with one last glare at Daryl, G turned around and walked back inside.   
   
 

* * *

  
   
Rick slammed the bag of guns down on the table, taking out what he needed and what they were going to give away. It wasn’t like they had a choice. They needed Glenn back.  
"Them guns are worth more’n gold."   
Rick glanced up at Daryl, who was walking around the desk. They were back in the office, _again_ , getting ready for their next encounter with those Hispanic losers.  
"Gold won’t protect your family, put food on the table. You willin’a give that up for _him_?"   
"If I knew we might get Glenn back, I might agree." T-Dog chimed in. "But you think that vato across the way is just gonna hand him over?"   
"You calling G a liar?" Miguel asked.  
"Are you part of this?!" Daryl smacked Miguel in the head. "You wanna hold onto your teeth?!" When Miguel stayed silent, Daryl retreated.   
T-Dog just shook his head.   
"Question is, do you trust that man’s word?"  
"No," Daryl countered, "question is, what are you willing to _bet_ on it? Could be more than them guns. Could be your life." He reasoned, stepping over to Rick. "Glenn worth that to you?"  
Rick pocketed his python.  
"What life I have, I owe to him. I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank."  
"Idiot’s right..." Daryl muttered.  
Rick ignored him. "He could’a walked away, but he didn’t. Neither will I."  
"So you’re gonna hand the guns over?"   
"I didn’t say that." Rick glanced between T-Dog and Daryl. "There’s nothing keeping you two here. You should get out, head back to camp."  
"And tell your family _what_?" T-Dog asked, rubbing his head. It’s been a long day, the sun was already beginning to set.   
Daryl just gave Rick a nod. Understanding, he passed out the guns to T-Dog and Daryl.  
"C’mon, this is nuts!" Miguel tried to intervene, only to be shoved back down by Daryl. "Just do like G says.." He whined. But they loaded their guns anyway, ignoring the distressed teen.  
 

* * *

  
   
They marched back through the threshold of the shitty place where the vatos claimed, Miguel walking with his hands bound behind his back, cloth tied around his mouth. Daryl had the barrel of a rifle to his back, pushing at him every so often. It was fun, getting to be the muscle. Just like Merle, he thought. When the doors opened, Miguel stumbled inside due to the child’s manhandling, shoving him in past the men at the doors. T-Dog and Rick took up the rear, their own guns raised in defense. It was a garage they entered, and there had to be at least 20 guys in there, angry and awaiting their return. They too, were armed, and Daryl didn’t like the sight of it. Like they had just entered a death trap.  
  
G approached them, two men at his side. "I see my guns. But they’re not all in the bag."  
"That’s because they’re not yours." Rick said, gun still raised. "I thought I mentioned that."   
"Lets just shoot these fools, right now, ese." Felipe walked up behind G, Daryl’s gun quickly moving to aim up at Miguel’s head just in case. "Alright? Unload on their asses, ese."   
"I don’t think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation." G continued on.  
"No, I’m pretty clear." Rick lowered his gun and cut Miguel free, shoving him forwards. "You have your man. I want mine." G stepped forwards.   
"I’m gonna chop up your boy. Feed ‘im to my dogs." Oh. That’s rude. "They’re the evilest, nastiest man-eating bitches you ever saw. I picked them up from Satan at a yard sale." And at that, Daryl had to scoff. Dogs weren’t scary. "I told you how it has to be, are you woefully deaf?"  
"No, my hearing’s fine." Rick squared up to him. "You said come locked and loaded." And the sound of guns cocking filled the room, Rick’s barrel between G’s eyes. "Ok then, we’re here." It was a standoff, everyone waiting for the other side to fire first. But they were interrupted before the firefight could commence.  
  
"Felipe!" It sounded like an elderly woman. "Felipe!" And it was. She stepped out from behind some of the other vatos, wearing a night dress and a robe.  
"Abuela, go back with the others,-- now." Felipe scolded.   
"Get that old lady outta the line of fire!" Daryl called. He couldn’t shoot a granny. Well, not unless granny wanted to start shit.   
G sighed. "Abuela, listen to your mijo, ok? This is not the place for you right now."  
"Mr. Gilbert is having trouble breathing." The woman fretted to Felipe, not seeming to understand the situation going on. And Daryl almost lowered his gun. But he didn’t. Because if granny wanted to start shit-- "He-he needs his asthma stuff! Carlito didn’t find it! _He needs his medicine_." G looked between the old lady and Rick, getting irritaed.   
"Felipe go take care of it! And take your grandmother with you!"  
Felipe spoke some sort of spanish to the old woman, who looked over at Rick, confused.  
"Who are those men? And that cute little baby boy?" Daryl growled lowly, but kept silent. Fucking-- The old woman approached, handing Daryl a packaged cookie from her robe pocket before looking up at Rick. "Don’t you take him!"  
"M’am?"  
"Felipe’s a good boy! He have his trouble, but he pull himself together. We need him here." This poor, confused old bitch..   
"M’am.." Rick tried again, "I’m not here to arrest your grandson."  
"Then, what do you want him for?" She inquired.  
  
At this point, all the guns had been lowered. There would be no firefight.   
"He’s.." Rick hesitated, looking around the room. "Helping us find a missing person. A fella named Glenn." The old woman smiled.   
"The Asian boy? He’s with Mr. Gilbert. Come. Come, I show you." She took Rick’s hand, leading him through. "He needs his medicine." Giving an annoyed sigh, G gave up.  
"Let ‘em pass."   
And they made their way through all the armed men easily. Daryl still kept a tight hold on his rifle, and T-Dog kept up the back. they still weren’t trusting, but their weapons were lowered. The old woman lead them up the stairs to another part of the building once they exited the garage, walking around to a gated yard where a man with a gun stood on watch. It was somewhat sunny and grassy in this area, it looked like a nice little place with seating and small tables. They entered what looked like a hospital, a bunch of elderly lurking around or in beds. A nursing home.   
"Abuela, por favor, take me to him." Felipe stepped up. It was crazy to walk these halls and see these people continuing on as normal, like the world hadn’t gone to shit.

They entered the cafeteria where people were gathered around an elderly man having an asthma attack, one of those people being Glenn, who was completely _fine_. As Felipe helped the man with his inhaler, Rick turned to Glenn in disbelief.  
"What the hell is this?"  
"An asthma attack." Glenn answered, "Couldn’t get his breath all of the sudden."  
"Omigod.." Daryl muttered at Glenn’s stupidity.  
"I thought you were being eaten by dogs, man." T-Dog growled.  
Glenn turned around to look at the three dogs sharing a bed behind him. They were very small, chauhaus.  
"Could I have a word with you?" Rick whispered venomously to G, pulling him aside. "You’re the dumbest son of a bitch I have ever met. We walked in there, ready to kill every last one of you."  
"Well I’m glad it didn’t go down that way." Was G’s response.

Daryl had really stopped paying attention by this point, his thoughts wondering to Merle. He hoped his brother was ok. He knew he wasn't dead, but that didn't mean Merle was ok. However, Daryl _did_ take note of Rick handing over some guns to G. What a dumb man. They needed those guns. You couldn't ever afford to help people out. If Glenn hadn't helped Rick, Merle would still be here. So dumb ol' Rick had no right to be giving away no damn guns. It wasn't long before they headed back to the cube van, walking all side by side, all armed with more guns and Dale's bag of tools.  
"Admit it," Glenn grinned at Rick, "you only came back to Atlanta for the hat."  
"Don’t tell anybody." Rick joked back. But Daryl wasn’t in a joking mood.  
"You’ve given away half our guns and ammo." He stated, deciding to be the party pooper. He usually was.   
"Not _nearly half_." Rick defended.  
"For what?" Daryl instigated, "Bunch of old fucks who are gonna die off momentarily anyhow? Seriously, how long ya think they got?"  
"How long do any of us?"  
" _Uh._ " Daryl came to a halt, the rest of the crew following in suit.   
" _Oh my god._ " Glenn’s eyes widened.  
"Where the hell’s our van?" Daryl glared up at Rick, as if it was his fault.  
"We left it right there, who would take it?"  
"Merle."   
**(Camera zooms in on T-Dog)**  
Well, Rick had a point. Fucker probably would. He can hotwire. Even showed Daryl how.  
"He’s gonna be taking some vengence back to camp." Because Merle was anything but forgiving. Except when it came to Daryl. Anyone else though? No. They ran, ran as fast as they could. If Merle really did take the truck, they needed to get there before he did. 

* * *

 

It took a good hour or two to get back, already black once they reached camp. But the sound of screaming and gunshots weren’t exactly welcoming. The camp was overrun with walkers, so loaded with guns, the crew from the recent Atlanta rescue mission began taking out as many walkers as possible, Daryl’s shots being the most accurate out of everyone, even though his rifle was literally the size of him. More than half the group was taken out by the end of the fight, everyone covered in blood. The kids were sobbing and clinging to their mothers, but Daryl wasn’t. He didn’t got no momma. No Merle. No one. So he sat off alone, taking a few deep breaths. Ugh, the shootout was draining mentally. The whole damn day was draining. He just needed some sleep. But how could he sleep without Merle? Tucking himself away, Daryl finally allowed himself time to cry. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this next chapter won't take so long to get out next time!


	4. Good Times at the C.D.C.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the slaughter-fest last night, the group discusses their next move now that The Quarry is no longer safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loving the feedback from you guys! This is becoming less word-for-word and into it's own story! Shout out to the people who left comments and made me really think of where to take this story!

_Squelch_! That’s the stomach churning sound that Daryl’s pickaxe made when it entered the skull of one of the dead camp residents. Everyone was too busy grieving to worry about the child carrying around something so dangerous due to his lack of strength. But he could swing the damn thing pretty well for his size. He and most of what was left of the group worked to burn the bodies, not wanting to take any chances. But when the grieving Andrea pulls a gun on Rick for approaching her and the lifeless body of Amy, Daryl decided they needed to do something. So he walked over to Rick, pickaxe over his shoulder to confront him on the situation.  
"Y’all can’t be serious." Eyes were on him now, specifically Carol, Lori, Dale, Shane and Rick’s. "Let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl’s a time bomb." He gestured to Amy with a wave of his arm, clearly upset about the lack of balls the rest of the group posessed. And despite a glare from Lori, Rick sighed and actually considered what Daryl was saying.  
"What do you suggest?"  
" _Take the shot_." Daryl said like it was obvious. "Clean, in the brain from here." He made a motion to his temple. "Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."  
"No." Lori protested. "For god’s sakes, let her be." She sat down, irritated. After Rick and Shane exchanged glances, Rick gave Daryl a look that said _no_. Scoffing, Daryl walked off. Assholes.  
  
"Wake up Jimbo, we’ve got some work ta do." He snapped Jim out of his little daydream as he passed by, tapping Morales on the back to let him know he was there to help. Dropping the pic, he and Morales began dragging a dead body over to the fire pit of other dead bodies, but were stopped by Glenn before they could throw it in.   
"Hey, what are you guys doing? This is for _geeks_. Our people go over there." He gestured to the lineup they made so they could bury their bodies in the holes Jim had dug yesterday while Daryl and the crew were out searching for Merle.   
"What’s the difference? They’re all infected." Daryl spat out, indifferent to who was a friend and who was already a walker that killed other members of camp. They all hated Daryl anyway, and he hated them just the same. They were dead and it was their own damn fault for not knowing how to take care of themselves.  
"Our people go in that row over there. _We don’t burn them!_ We _bury_ them." Glenn snapped. "Understand?" Daryl stared up at Glenn for a moment, as did Morales before deciding to just comply. "Our people go in that row over there." Glenn repeated, to make sure they understood.

  
Dragging the body over to the row, Daryl shot Glenn a glare. "You reap what you sow!" He spitefully called to him. Morales immediately gave him a dirty look as he dropped the body.   
"You know what? Shut up, kid!" He hissed out in disgust.  
"Y’all left my brother for dead!" Daryl shouted at Morales as he walked off. "You had this comin’!" When no one responded to him, Daryl went off to go pierce more skulls with his pickaxe. _Squelch_! Was the entry wound. _Shlick_! Was the exit when Daryl pulled the tool free. Gross. He came across a few more dead walkers, ones with gunshot wounds in the head, but he smashed those too, getting out a bit of pent up anger. Stupid group. He just wished Merle would come back, and soon. Why hadn’t he returned? Better question: why didn’t he wait for Daryl? Was he really so unreliable that Merle had felt he should saw off his own fucking hand rather than depend on his baby brother? Fuck, it made him so angry! He violently bashed in another skull before yelling from Jaqui brought his attention back to the group.  
"A walker got him!" She yelled, backing away from the tall man. "A walker bit Jim!"  
Now everyone was on their feet, circling the man who quickly began to panic. Daryl followed suit, pointing accusingly at Jim.  
"Show it to us. _Show it to us_." He demanded, as Jim halfheartedly mumbled about being ok. But as they all surrounded him, Jim grabbed for a shovel.  
"Easy Jim!" Shane called.  
"Grab ‘im!" Daryl enforced, because he wasn’t about to get shoveled.  
"Jim, put it down! Put it down!"  
But it was T-Dog who grabbed and restrained Jim from behind, forcing him to drop the shovel. Discarding his own tool, Daryl rushed over and yanked Jim’s shirt up to reveal a bloody bite, just below his ribs. Seeing the bite, Daryl dropped the shirt from his grip and backed away. He didn’t need to get infected. And Merle had specifically told him to _stay away_ from anyone who was bitten. Just because Merle was awol didn’t mean his rules didn’t apply anymore. 

Jim kept on mumbling that he was ok as everyone stared in shock, unsure of how to comprehend this. Daryl picked up his discarded pickaxe and held it close. Rick sent Jim over to sit while the group had a discussion on what to do. It was unspoken that Daryl was unwelcome to help make a decision, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t be treated like a helpless child like Carl or Sophia or Louis or Eliza. Since Merle was gone, he’d take his place as an adult to make decisions. Hell, he fed these people more often than not, he’d be damned if he didn’t get a say in things around here.  
"I say we put a pickaxe in his head. And the dead girl’s and be done with it." He declared.  
"Is that what you’d want if it were you?" Shane snapped at him.  
"Yeah, and I’d thank ya while ya did it." Daryl shot back, eyes narrowed up at Shane.   
"I hate to say it-" Dale spoke up, "I never thought I would-- but maybe Daryl’s right." Of course he was. Jim was infected. Only a matter of time until he turned.   
"Jim’s not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog." Rick reminded.   
"I’m not suggesting--  
"He’s sick. A sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?"  
"The line’s pretty clear." Daryl rolled his eyes. "Zero tolerance for _walkers_ , or them to be."  
"What if we can get him help?" Rick suggested, looking to Shane now. "I heard the C.D.C. was working on a cure."  
"I heard that too, I heard a lot of things before the world went to hell." Shane didn’t seem too convinced with the suggestion.   
"What if the C.D.C. is still up and running?"  
"Man, that is a stretch right there." And now Shane sounded entirely unconvinced.  
"Why? If there’s any government left," Rick argued, "any structure at all, they’d protect the C.D.C. at all _costs_ , wouldn’t they? I think it’s our best shot. Shelter, protection--"  
  
This all sounded stupid. There wasn’t a damned thing they could do for Jim now. He wouldn’t make it, Daryl knew that. But no one seemed to get that through their dumb fucking heads.  
"Ok Rick, you want those things, alright? I do too, ok?" Shane attempted reasoning. "Now if they exist, they’re at the army base. Fort Benning."  
"That’s a hundred miles in the opposite direction." Lori pointed out.  
"That is right. But it’s away from the hot zone." Whatever that was. "Now listen to me. If that place is operational, it’ll be heavily armed. We’d be safe there."  
Rick shook his head in disagreement. "The military were on the front lines of this thing. They got overrun, we all _seen_ that. The C.D.C.’s our best choice and _Jim’s only chance_." There was a mutual silence as everyone thought over Rick’s words and occasionally glanced back to where Jim was waiting. But there was no way. It was too risky.  
"You go looking for aspirin, do what you need to do." Daryl turned towards Jim, heading for him with his pickaxe raised. "Someone needs to have the _balls to take care of this damn problem_!" And he was about to swing at the terrified man until he heard a familiar click behind his head. This motherfucker..  
" **Hey hey hey**! _We don’t. Kill. The living._ " Rick enphasized, Shane now standing between Daryl and Jim. Lowering the pic, Daryl slowly turned to glare up at Rick. "That’s _funny_. Coming from a man who just put a _gun to my head_." He hissed out menacingly, though Rick wasn’t intimidated.   
"We may disagree on some things," Shane began softly, "not on this. You put it down." He motioned to the pickaxe with his head. "Go on."  
Daryl lifted up the pickaxe only to slam it down on the ground, storming off while Rick escorted Jim inside the RV, most likely to keep him safe from Daryl.  
  
So Daryl returned to what he was doing. Squishing heads. They were already shot or squished, but Daryl needed something to do. He found another pickaxe since his first one had gotten confiscated, but it wasn’t like there wasn’t another lying around. He made it to Ed Peletier’s body, who hadn’t been squished yet. He was about to, when he was approached by Carol. He froze up a bit, not knowing what the woman wanted.   
"I’ll do it." She held her hands out for the tool. "He’s my husband." She was crying. And it probably wasn’t a good idea to give a grieving woman a weapon, but Daryl handed it over anyway. Fuck it. Let her deal with that abusive fuck. Something he wished he coulda done to Pa. Carol raised the pickaxe and swung it into Ed’s head. But she wasn’t done. She did it again and again, sobbing and angrily stabbing his head in with the weapon, and Daryl grimaced, watching her take out all her frustrations out on the man who repeatedly abused her. It was.. unsettling.

* * *

  
Soon the bodies were loaded up in the back of Merle’s pickup truck, and Daryl reluctantly gave over the keys to Glenn, and sat passenger to him while Glenn drove the bodies up to the graves, backing in so it’d be easier to get the wrapped corpses from point A to point B. Exiting the car, Daryl made his way over to Rick and Shane, who were continuing Jim’s digging from yesterday.  
"I still think it’s a mistake not burning these bodies. It’s what we said we’d do, right?" He walked around Shane, watching the men work. "Burn ‘em all, wasn’t that the idea?" He asked as the rest of the group approached, getting ready for the burial and funeral that Daryl thought was fucking pointless. He hated funerals. He could still remember Momma’s funeral a couple years back, how the rest of the family scowled at him and Pa and Merle, an aunt Daryl couldn’t remember the name of cussing out Pa and saying she’d still be alive if it weren’t for him and his devil children. Daryl hated that aunt.   
"At first." Shane answered, snapping Daryl out of his thoughts.  
"The Chinaman gets all emotional," Daryl continued, "says it’s not the thing to do, we just follow ‘im along? These people need’a know who the hell’s _in charge_ here, what the _rules_ are." He stated, looking between Shane and Rick. Just because it wasn’t very _humane_ to burn these bodies didn’t mean it didn’t have to be done. And Glenn throwing a damn fit shouldn’t mean he should get his way.  
"There are no rules." Is what Rick had to say to that. What a dumb man.   
"Well, that’s a problem." Came Queen Bitch and her two cents nobody asked for. Stupid Lori. "We haven’t had one minute to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn, and we need to bury our dead. _It’s what people do_." And Daryl wanted to argue that it was _stupid_ and it didn’t make a _difference_ because they were _dead_. But he decided against it, just keeping his mouth shut. If these people wanted to be stupid, fine. He’ll let ‘em. 

Daryl stood away from the group as they had a funeral, Andrea sobbing over the loss of Amy. He should feel bad, but he didn’t. That bitch left Merle for dead and didn’t even seem sorry. She never even said she was sorry to him, because she _wasn’t_. She thought he and Merle were just dumb, uneducated rednecks. And that wasn’t true. Mostly. Daryl’s education was seriously lacking when it came to formal schooling, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. He sure as hell fared better than any of these assholes out here. Andrea’s collage education isn’t doing shit for her now, now is it? Daryl left the funeral early, because frankly, he didn’t care. This earned him many glares he could feel burning into his back, but he just went off to pack up his and Merle’s things. It wasn’t safe here anymore, and he didn’t know where he’d begin looking for Merle. But he knew he had to start. He could still be hurt, even though he seemed to have taken care of the wound pretty well. Daryl was still worried. But Merle was a tough sumbitch, he’d make it. He always did. 

At nightfall, Shane spoke as everyone was gathered at the campfire, backing up Rick’s plan to head to the C.D.C. and welcomed anyone who agreed to come along with them. They’d leave in the morning. But Daryl knew better than to think the invitation extended to himself. Without Merle here, they had no reason to keep Daryl around. He was an unwanted, angry child that no one wanted to deal with, even if he did bring in food. The fishing Amy did would probably hold them over until they got to the C.D.C., and if it was all Rick said it was, they wouldn’t need a hunter or a fisher at all.

* * *

  
That morning, everyone was packed up and ready to leave, and Daryl was just waiting for them all to get the hell outta here. He stood off to the side, watching Shane start barking out orders again.  
"Those of you with C.B.s, we’re gonna be on channel 40. Lets keep the chatter down, ok? Now you got a problem, don’t have a C.B., can’t get a signal or anything at all, you’re gonna hit your horn _one time_. That’ll stop the caravan. Any questions?" He asked after explaining what he and Rick had discussed first thing.  
"We uh.." Morales hesitantly began, standing next to his wife and children, "we’re not going."  
"We have family in Birmingham." Miranda informed. They both looked rather unhappy with the decision they’ve come to, as did the rest of the group. Except Daryl, who really didn’t fucking care. Morales treated him and Merle like they were wild pets to tame, which was fucking humilating and degrading. So good riddance. "We want to be with our people." She stated, hugging Louis close.   
"You go on your own, you don’t have anyone to watch your back." Shane pointed out in an attempt to dissueade them from leaving on their own.   
"We’ll take the chance." Morales wouldn’t be convinced. "I gotta do what’s best for my family." Daryl was silently convinced they wouldn’t even make it to Birmingham.   
"You sure?" Rick asked.  
"We talked about it. We’re sure."   
"Alright.. Shane." Rick crouched down to that damned bag of guns.  
"Yeah, alright." Shane crouched down as well, looking through the bag with Rick.   
".357?"  
"Yeah."  
They presented Morales with the gun and a box of ammo.  
"Box is half full." Shane informed, and Daryl scoffed. Always giving away weapons. He was ignored though, because no one gave a shit what he had to say. He walked off, back to his and Merle’s things, not caring for a teary departure of Morales’ dumb family.   
  
Engines revved to life as everyone got ready to leave, and Daryl sat with one of Merle’s shirts, holding it close while kicking at some rocks. His head only jerked up when he heard footsteps approaching him, and he saw they belonged to Rick, with Shane and Glenn watching him from the background.  
"What?" Daryl hissed out, annoyed with Rick’s fucking _existence_.  
"Why aren’t you getting in the truck?" He asked, sounding genuinely confused. This only angered Daryl.  
"Don’t gotta rub it in, _officer_." He spat out. Rick was taken aback by this, not understanding what Daryl meant. He sunk into his shoulders when he noticed people looking out their windows at them, knowing full well he was the reason they were being held up.   
"Y’all don’t want me to come with. ‘m goin’a look for Merle." Daryl explained simply.  
Rick frowned, looking at the boy with eyes of sympathy, but Daryl took it as pity and scoffed at him.  
"We can’t just leave you here, _I_ can’t just leave you here. Merle-- he’ll find us. If he comes back and sees we’ve left, he’ll probably think we went somewhere safe."  
"Cuz y’all are pussies." Daryl insulted.  
Rick ignored that. "And the C.D.C. is close. It’s only logical that he’d go there. So c’mon."  
"Jus’ wanna keep yer good conscience.." Daryl wasn’t convinced.  
Rick took a moment before leaning down to him. "We need you. You’re a great shot, ok? I need someone to help protect my family. And I think you’re the only one man enough to do it. Glenn freaks out easy, Dale is old, and T-Dog isn’t good with stress. You know how to survive."  
Daryl gave Rick a look that said he thought he’s pathetic. "Fine." Standing up, Daryl made his way to Merle’s truck and got in the passenger side after making sure his mini motorcycle Merle had gotten him was strapped down. Merle’s own motorcycle kind of.. exploded a while back. So Daryl’s tiny bike would have to do, the saddlebags holding the shit they kept from the group.  
Glenn was grinning when he got into the driver’s seat, and Daryl just stuck his tongue out at him before they were all off, Daryl staring out the window tiredly. 

He was just drifting off to sleep when he felt the truck come to a stop. Motherfucker. It was that damned RV of Dales. Getting out, Daryl grabbed his crossbow and kept on watch while everyone else got out to see what the fucking problem was now. The hose was.. shit. They needed the one from the cube van, but whoops, that was gone. But one problem shifted to another as Jacqui said Jim probably wasn’t going to make it. Daryl rolled his eyes and headed back to his and Merle’s truck while Shane and T-Dog decided to drive ahead and dumb Rick was left to ‘hold down the fort’.   
  
But when Jim was dragged out to sit and die under a tree, Daryl couldn’t help but feel bad now. It was a shitty way to go, and he didn’t understand the man’s thought process, to be willingly left behind. As they all said their goodbyes and headed back down the hill to their vehicles, Daryl just stood and stared at Jim, who was nice and gave him a small smile. Daryl gave him a nod in acknowledgement and thanks, heading back down with the others. He was sad. He didn’t want Jim to die anymore. The gravity of the situation was just setting in now, and it was heavy. When he climbed back into the truck, Glenn looked over at him.  
"Are you ok?"  
"Shut up."  
Glenn didn’t try to talk to him again after that. The drive was quiet, and Daryl hadn’t even realized he’d nodded off, his tiny child body exhausted both physically and emotionally. It’d been a stressful few days. 

* * *

  
It was just about dark when they reached the C.D.C. and it was a graveyard. Dead bodies were everywhere, and sandbags and traces that the military had been here. Daryl’s stomach sank, feeling like this was a lost cause. But he grabbed up his crossbow and exited his truck, following everyone along. The smell of death was heavy in the air, and every single body was covered in flies. He snatched a rifle from Glenn as they walked, the man grunting in protest but didn’t make any effort to take his gun back. He had another one anyway. They all coughed at the horrible scent of decaying bodies, but kept up their pace, Shane urging everyone to stay quiet, as if they didn’t already know that. When they reached the doors, they couldn’t get them open. Nothing.   
"There’s nobody here." T-Dog stated.  
"Then why are these shutters down?" Rick asked defensively.  
"Walkers!" Daryl called, because unlike everyone else, he’d been keeping watch. Carl and Sophia began freaking out, and Daryl sent a bolt straight through the walker’s skull before storming over to Rick.  
"You lead us into a graveyard!"  
"He made a call!" Shane defended.  
"It was the wrong damn call!"  
But Shane angrily marched over to Daryl, shoving him back in a way that frightened Daryl. " _Just shut up! You hear me, shut up! Shut up!_ " And Daryl backed down as Shane turned to Rick, tone non hostile with his friend. "Rick, this is a dead end."  
"Where are we gonna go?!" Carol cried.  
"Do you hear me? No blame."  
"She’s right, we can’t be this close to the city after dark!" Lori urged, holding onto a sobbing Carl.   
"Fort Benning. Rick-- still an option." Shane tried, but was immediately shut down.   
"On what? No food, no fuel, it’s a hundred miles." Lori countered.  
"One hundred _twenty five_ , I checked the map." Not helping Glenn.   
"Forget Fort Benning, we need answers _tonight, now_." Everyone was starting to freak out now, and Daryl could feel his breathing becoming hitched. This wasn’t a good time for another attack, eyes watering, hands shaking and gripping his crossbow. He didn’t want to be a baby and cry like Carl and Sophia, but panic arose in him as the other adults panicked, even Shane and Rick, who usually seemed level-headed.   
" _We’ll think of something._ " Rick tried to assure, but no one bought it. A jumble of ‘lets go’s and people began taking off.   
  
Daryl was glued to where he was though, trying not to freak out. Rick said something about a camera, but Daryl couldn’t focus on anything right now, on the verge of hyperventalating. Panic completely erupted around him, Rick banging on the metal shutters and people screaming at him. Daryl’s body trembled violently as everyone began going crazy, he couldn’t handle it. Suddenly he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs fast enough, and the hyperventalating came on quickly. When the strongest of the group began to panic, that’s when Daryl knew to be afraid. His vision was blurry with tears, and he didn’t even know who had lifted him up in their arms but he clung to them tightly, needing something to ground him and keep him calm. A bright white light got his and everyone else’s attention as one of the shutters raised suddenly. Everyone entered the building quickly, and it was dark inside. Daryl couldn’t calm his breathing, but he tried to keep himself quiet because he knew he wasn’t a priority right now. Dale ordered someone to close the doors, and the sound of a gun cocking brought them all to attention.   
"Anybody infected?!" A man with a t shirt and sweatpants on asked, holding a semi automatic rifle.   
Rick explained the situation with Jim, but confirmed no one here was infected.   
"Why are you here? What do you want?" The man asked, untrusting.  
"A chance." Rick answered.  
"That’s asking an awful lot these days."  
"I know."  
"You all submit to a blood test. That’s the price of admission." Was the man’s negotiation.   
"We can do that." Rick agreed.   
"You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. _Once this door closes, it stays closed_."  
Rick nodded, and people began scrambling out to grab their things.  
  
The man approached Daryl and Glenn.  
"Is he ok?"  
"Uh, panic attack. He gets them sometimes." Glenn explained.  
Daryl was still trying to calm himself down when Glenn set him down.  
"Just breathe, kid. Relax." The man coaxed.  
"Ten in, ten out." Glenn repeated words he heard Merle use before, and soon Daryl was able to catch his breath.   
It was by that time Rick and Shane ran back in with the rest of the bags, Dale and T-Dog hastily closing the doors behind them.   
The man ran his key card through a machine on the wall, speaking to it. "Vi, seal the main enterance. Kill the power up here." The shutters closed, protecting them all from the outside.  
"Rick Grimes." Rick introduced.  
"Dr. Edwin Jenner." The man responded.  
They were all lead and crammed into an elevator, going down. Daryl didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of this. He didn’t like Dr. Jenner, even though he had helped him breathe again. He just seemed too sad.  
"Doctors always go ‘round packing heat like that?" He asked after a few minutes of silence.   
"There were plenty left lying around. I familiarized myself." Jenner answered. "But you look harmless enough. Except you." He said to Carl. "I’ll have to keep my eye on you." He joked, getting a smile out of the young Grimes boy.   
  
They were lead through a hallway once the elevator doors opened, looking around at how clean it was. Daryl didn’t like that either.   
"Are we underground?" Carol asked.  
"Are you claustrophobic?" Jenner asked, in response to her question.  
" _A little._ "  
"Try not to think about it."  
And now Daryl just felt fucking trapped. Aah. He hated it here already.   
After a short explanation about Jenner being the only one left, they were taken to get blood drawn. Most were fine, Sophia cried, and Daryl threw a damn fit. He didn’t understand why he needed to be poked with a needle. The only time he’d ever seen needles was when Merle was doing drugs. So he understandably refused until Rick and Shane held him down, needing to explain to Jenner that his older brother did drugs and Daryl probably had no idea what a vaccination was, and that Daryl was _not_ infected. He was just.. feral. It was questioned who Daryl’s parents were, but Daryl just stated they died a while ago, and his missing older brother was the only one caring for him. The same one that did the drugs. So Jenner understood Daryl a little better with that explaination and didn’t kick them out.

"What’s the point?" Andrea asked as she was finishing getting blood drawn. "If we were infected, we’d all be running a fever."  
"I’ve already broken every rule in the book letting you in here." Jenner explained, "let me just at least be thorough."  
Andrea swayed as she stood up, Jacqui coming to her side to aid her.  
"You ok?" Jenner asked.  
"She hasn’t eaten in days. None of us have." Jacqui informed. And soon they were all around a table, laughing and eating and having a good time.  
"You know, in italy," Dale began, "children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France."  
"Well, when Carl is in _Italy_ or _France_ , he can have some then." Lori disagreed.  
"What’s it gonna hurt?" Rick pressed. "Come on." After the two exchanged looks, Lori gave a shrug.  
"Here you are, young lad." Dale presented Carl a cup with a small bit of wine.   
Carl took a sip and immediately grimaced. " _Eew_!" And everyone began to laugh as Carl placed the cup down.   
"That’s my boy." Lori praised.  
"That tastes nasty."  
  
"Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud." Shane chuckled.  
"Not you, Glenn." Daryl grinned, and Glenn glanced up with a nervous chuckle.  
"What?"  
"Keep drinkin’, lightweight. I wanna see how red your face can get." Daryl teased, actually seeming to have a good time. Embarrassed with the others laughing, Glenn thought it’d be a good idea to call Daryl out. "Like you could hold it down any better."  
Daryl’s response was picking up a bottle of wine and chugging it, everyone in the room going silent as he did so. Daryl only pulled the bottle from his lips to take a breath, wiping his mouth on his arm. "Dixons got a high tolerance~"  
"Fuckin’ hell, kid.." Shane’s eyes were wide.  
"Used’a drink ‘shine an’ whiskey wit’ Merle. An’ beer is all we hadda drink inna fridge." Daryl shrugged, not understanding the abusive and neglectful situation he had just described. But the rest of the group just tried to laugh it off, not wanting to kill the mood. It’s not like they could do anything about it now, anyway. Though Rick would definitely be investigating into that later. It must connect with the panic attacks somehow.  
Rick raised his glass to toast to Jenner, and Daryl caused a round of ‘booyah’s, only for Shane to kill the mood, asking what happened. Jenner explained that people either left or committed suicide. And Jenner just stayed and kept working. So that party was over. 

Jenner explained the situation with housing after dinner, so they were forced on cots and couches. But that was ok. The mention of hot water was excitement enough. So everyone went to shower. Except for Daryl. He didn’t really know how. Either Merle would bathe him, or he went without. And no one here was going to get that close to him, that’s for sure. So he just hid away in a room. He didn’t bother with the rec room like Sophia and Carl. No, he just wanted to sleep and hope Merle was ok. But he ended up needing to use the potty-- take a piss. Only babies said potty. Merle said men take a piss. Which was kind of dumb sounding unless you said it with Merle’s voice, but whatever. Daryl got out of his cot and headed to the bathrooms, only to hear Shane and Lori in the rec room, Lori sounding terrified. The sound frightened him, the begging and pleading from the annoying woman sounded just like Momma when she would beg Pa to stop beatin’ on ‘er. But Daryl had to do something. Grabbing his knife from it’s holister, he kicked the door open, startling both Shane and Lori to a stop. Daryl said nothing, keeping his hunting knife raised as he stared at the both of them. Shane grumbled, storming over to Daryl and yanked him by his arm down the hallway.  
"Shane leave him alone!" Lori called, but she was ignored. Daryl fought Shane, knife back in the holister though. He was used to taking the beatings for Momma, or, he was, so he knew what was coming next. He was tossed into the room Shane claimed for himself, and Shane closed the door behind him.  
"You keep yer little white trash mouth shut, you hear?" Shane hissed out angrily. And Daryl could tell he was drunk. He stayed on the floor, trying to keep the fear out of his face as he looked up at Shane.  
"You was hurtin’ ‘er."  
  
Shane grabbed Daryl up by his collar and slammed the boy against the wall, face inches from Daryl’s.  
"You keep your mouth _shut_. Or I swear, I will have you booted from this group and out on the damn streets without so much as your little knife for protection. Ya hear?"   
Daryl could only nod, because he couldn’t be kicked out of the group now. Not if Merle didn’t know where he was. Not even Daryl knew where he was. Shane tucked Daryl under his arm and marched Daryl right back to his room where he tossed the kid in and closed the door. And Daryl decided that he’d hold it until morning.

 


	5. First Day at Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little context on the first day Merle and Daryl got to the Quarry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like this needed to be written because everyone misses Merle but I don't know when I plan for him to come back yet.

He hadn't meant to drop the box of bullets. But he did, and they scattered about, rolling underneath the fridge and oven. Pa was angry about it. Despite the need to be _quiet_ , he began cussing up a storm, shouting and beating on the clumsy boy who was struggling to remain standing. His breath hitched when he heard the pounding at the already frail doors, but Pa was just so angry with him. It was an accident, hands having been shaky with fear when he dropped the box. And now he was being punished. The monsters outside wanted to get in, wanted to eat them just as they did the others in town. He and Pa only made it back because they knew the woods and no one else did. It was scary, seeing people eating other people, but he followed Pa, abandoned the car and kept running. They got back to the house and locked up the doors and got ready to go. It wasn't safe here no more. But one dropped box of bullets made Pa lose it. He wasn't hard to anger, unfortunately, and Daryl found himself wiping at the blood dripping from his nose, trying to back away from the punches flying at his face. When his arm was harshly grabbed up and he was being dragged to the front door, Daryl began to scream and plead for Pa not to throw him out there with the monsters, he'd be good, he wouldn't drop no more boxes, he'd find good food, he'd be the best damn survivor there'd be, but Pa was having none of it. He wouldn't be done in by a dumb boy who couldn't even keep hold of a simple box in his hands. The door was shoved open, knocking the hungry monsters off the steps and tumbling down to the ground, and Daryl was thrown at their feet. He was terrified, screaming and squirming to get away. He had no weapon.

  
The monsters began to fall dead, one by one, the deafening sound of a rifle firing is what abruptly stopped Daryl's panic, and an angry Merle approached him, pulling him up by his arm as hard as Pa had, dragging Daryl back into the house and got into it with Pa. It all happened so fast, the yelling and shoving, Merle's face so red and angry like Daryl had never seen, and suddenly Pa was falling to the floor, his brains blown out all over the wall, Merle gripping his rifle tightly. Daryl couldn't believe his eyes. Merle was a druggie, but he'd never killed no one before. Especially not _family_. Even if it was Pa. He didn't remember running, he just found himself in his and Merle's closet, closing the door as his panic attack began, hyperventalating and sobbing around the thumb he stuffed in his mouth to suck on, cowering in the corner like a dumb little baby, scared of his own big brother now. He didn't think Merle would ever, _ever_ come for him next, but what if he went back to jail? Then who would protect him from the monsters? Certianly not Pa. But Pa had been doing a pretty shitty job of that to begin with. A knock on the closet door sent Daryl shrieking, but when the door opened, he was met with Merle smiling sadly, his face splattered with blood of Pa's.   
"You’s a big boy now, Daryl." He sat down against the doorframe. "C’mon kid, ten in, ten out. Jus’ breathe." He reached out and plucked Daryl’s thumb from his mouth, holding the small hand in his gently. Daryl began to calm, breathing slowly, in and out with Merle.

Once he calmed down, Merle continued talking in that soft tone that was only for Daryl. "Hadda do it, pal. Pa’s outta his fuckin’ mind."  
"His mind is outta his head _now_.." Daryl muttered, causing Merle to snicker.  
"That it is. He’s blood. Family. Blood ain’t s’posed’a throw ya to the biters. He hadda go, Dare. You woulda been gone if I hadn’t showed, an’ even though I did, he’d try an’ getcha killed again. Even ta save his own ass."  
"I don’t like Pa.."  
"Me either. Didn’t wanna kill ‘im, but it was him or us. Got it? That’s how the world is now. Them, or us. You an’ I? We been survivin’ all our damn lives. It’s jus’ like that. Only now there’s biters."  
"Monsters."  
"Ain’t no fuckin’ monsters, Daryl." The soft tone was gone, now an annoyed tone was replaced. That was the Merle Daryl knew. "Biters. Only pussy lil’ baby girls think they’s monsters. You a pussy lil’ baby girl, _Darylina_?" Merle taunted, and Daryl stood up to whack his brother.  
"Ain’t no girl!"  
"Atta boy! C’mon, le’s get the fuck outta ‘ere. Place ain’t meant fer people to live in, much less keep out biters."  
"Fuckin’ geeks." Daryl huffed.  
"They’s is geeks, ain’t ‘ey? C’mon now."  
  
Daryl emerged from the closet and began packing his backpack with clothes and bullets, and grabbed his small crossbow and bolts, making sure one was at least loaded before taking them out to Merle’s pickup truck, sprinting to avoid the monst-- the _biters_. He gathered what small amount of food they had in their dumb little shack, but purposely left behind any pictures of Momma and Pa. He didn’t like either of them. He could get on without ‘em.   
"Go get me the map of Georgia. Gotta do some plannin’." Merle ordered, and Daryl ran up to Pa’s closet to find a map. He couldn’t figure which one was Georgia, so he just grabbed one and returned it to Merle.  
"Not the map of Atlanta, dumbass." Merle shoved it back at Daryl, going to get it himself.  
"What’s the difference?!" Daryl grumbled. He couldn’t read that well, and often found himself not even trying.  
"Shut yer fuckin’ mouth an’ just get ready!"  
"Up yours!" Daryl called back, stuffing some flasks filled with water into Merle’s pack, along with their pathetic excuse for a first aid kit.

  
They were soon off, driving out further into the woods.   
"Said there’s a camp out in Atlanta." Daryl muttered after a few minutes of silence, causing Merle to scoff.   
"That’ll be a shitshow in a matter of minutes. One breech or infected asshole and everyone’s a fuckin’ goner. No, we stay outta the damn cities. Keep to the woods. We got the advantage. We’s wild boys, Daryl. Hunters. We can survive without no workin’ toilet or fancy fuckin’ cold air machines."  
"Air conditioners."  
"I will beat yer ass if you correct me again."  
"Whatever pussy."  
"You’s lucky I’m drivin’."

They had stopped on an empty road, took a couple guns and Daryl’s crossbow, and began hunting. A decent sized deer is the trail they picked up, but they came across three men instead. A pig, a chopstick, and a taco bender, is what Merle called them. They all had their backs turned to the silently approaching brothers, and when they were in position, Merle cocked his gun, startling the three.   
"Woa, don’t shoot!" The asian boy squeaked, his own gun useless in his hands, too startled to raise it. The hispanic and the cop however, weren’t afraid.  
"The fuck, is that a kid?" The hispanic asked, eyeing Daryl warily. Why did a child have a crossbow?  
"Don’t get any ideas, beaner." Merle scoffed a laugh. "Boy’ll take yer ass down before y’all even realize what’s happenin’."  
"Rednecks.." The cop muttered, pistol raised at Merle. "’chu want from us?"  
"We’s just passin’ through _officer_." Merle spat out, giving a cocky grin. "You men don’t look like hunters."  
"We’re not.." The asian complained miserably.   
"Pussies." Daryl lowered his weapon and walked by them, inspecting some tracks after brushing the leaves away.  
"Oh, so you’s big huntin’ man now?" Merle taunted his younger brother. "Lead on, then. Show ol’ Merle how it’s done."  
Flipping Merle off, Daryl began to continue his deer hunt, and Merle followed close behind him. It was hesitant, but the other three decided to follow.   
"We got lost." The asian boy whispered to Merle.  
Merle chuckled in response. "Seems it. Ain’t no kung pow chicken out here, boy."  
"That’s racist."  
"He does that." Daryl muttered. The hunt continued, but Glenn’s screams of terror caught them all off guard and as Daryl turned around, Merle’s knife was being stabbed into a biter’s skull, who had a grip on the asian’s arm. A few more biters emerged from the surrounding bushes, and Merle urged the other men not to fire their guns, because it’d only attract more. So Merle, one by one drove his knife into skulls. And when one came at Daryl, the other men quickly ran to attack it, but Daryl could take care of himself, now that he had a weapon. He kicked the geek in the knee and took out it’s leg, driving his own hunting knife into the skull once it was down. And he didn’t even scream like a bitch like the asian had.   
  
"Fuck the deer, we gotta get outta here." Merle nudged Daryl.  
Daryl gave a nod and took off sprinting after Merle, the other men following. They had no other choice, they were lost. Daryl managed to take out a few more geeks as he ran, coming almost to a stop to retrieve bolts, and the other men even retrieved his arrows as well, seeing as the kid was a fucking sharp shooter. It’d be a shame if he ran out of ammo. So once out of the woods, they all hopped into the pickup truck, Merle driving, the cop in the passenger seat, and the hispanic, asian and Daryl all in the truck’s bed. Merle didn’t even wait for Daryl to be fully inside, just floored it, knocking Daryl into his mini motorcycle. But he didn’t care. The cop must’ve been saying something important in there, cuz Merle was nodding along, having an actual human conversation that didn’t involve yelling at someone or throwing punches. They stopped at a jeep on the side of the road, and the cop urged the two to follow up the mountain, where they had a camp. Daryl tried to argue fuck no when the other men piled into the jeep and drove off, but Merle just swatted him in the head and followed the dumb jeep.

  
They called it The Quarry. It was a lively bunch, 4 kids, lots of men and women, a big RV with an old man in a dumb hat on a lawn chair on the roof taking watch. He hated literally everyone here, and he didn’t even know anyone yet. He hopped out of the truck and stayed glued to Merle’s side as everyone eyed the two brothers. The cop, Shane, introduced them to everyone, and nudged Daryl over to the kids.   
  
A freckled boy by the name of Carl smiled at him.  
"Wanna play tag?"  
"Tha’s a baby game. Don’t wanna play no baby game." Daryl grumbled. He didn’t like being grouped in with all the dumb kids. He wanted to be treated like an adult like Merle. Carl looked offended though.  
"Is not! Sophia likes it, and she’s twelve!"  
"It’s fun! Or we could color, I still have crayons and paper in my tent!"  
"Sounds stupid." Daryl scoffed.  
Sophia frowned, heading off with the two other kids who seemed to belong to Morales, the hispanic man.  
"You don’t gotta be a jerk." Carl puffed out his chest at Daryl. "You’re the baby here, anyway. We’re all bigger than you."  
" _Fuck off_." Daryl hissed.  
Carl gasped and shoved him. "Don’t say that!"  
Daryl knocked Carl flat on his ass with a strike to the jaw.  
  
" **Hey**!" Shane yelled, running over check on Carl, Carl’s mother right behind him. The other mothers held their kids away from Daryl, and Shane glared at the child as he helped Carl to his feet. "What’s yer problem?!"  
"He told me to ‘fuck off’, Shane." And Carl’s momma gasped.   
"Carl we do not repeat that!"  
"He said it!"  
"He shouldn’t be saying it either!"  
"Gone five minutes to set up shop an’ yer already causin’ shit." Merle yanked Daryl back by his arm, which was bruised at this point from so much manhandling.   
"’e pushed me." Daryl muttered in a half assed attempt to defend himself.   
"He was cussing out my son!" The lady cried, angry.   
"Daryl here don’t play good like ‘em other kids. Go set up yer bed, ya lil’ asshole." Merle gave Daryl a shove. "He won’t bother yer kids none anymore. Jus’ keep ‘im busy with chores." And with that Merle walked off.

 


	6. A Turn for the Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out, the C.D.C. is even shittier than what the group had already found out last night. And Daryl found the wine again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda wanna skip ahead to the farm, but I'm not sure yet. The highway scene is kinda important but I feel this shit is just dragging on at this point and I don't want it to be boring. The farm is where I start fucking up canon royally. c:

A knock on the door is what woke Daryl causing him to sit up tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "What?" He called out tiredly before noticing something. He was soaked. Motherfucker, if dumbass Shane hadn’t tried hurting Queen Skinny Bitch then he woulda made it to the bathroom last night. But before he could do anything about it, Queen Skinny Bitch herself entered the room, dressed and more put together than she looked last night.   
"Mornin’ hon." She said in a soft, motherly voice that Daryl didn’t like. "I just wanted to check on ya, make sure you’re ok."  
"’m fine. Officer Dickhead didn’t do nothin’ sides pull me ‘round a little." He wasn’t going to mention Shane’s threats about having him booted from the group, no way. One person already had that idea in mind, he didn’t need more. "Keep ‘im off the bottle and stick close to Rick." Was all Daryl had to say on the matter, and Lori gave a nod.   
"I’m not telling Rick what happened last night."  
"Pickin’ yer battles? Smart."  
Lori’s nose scrunched up at the smell of the air, and Daryl knew what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.  
"Daryl did you--"  
But Daryl cut her off by pulling out his hunting knife, eyebrows raised, daring her to finish that question. Lori’s eyes widened and she threw her hands up in surrender.   
"Well, get dressed and come to breakfast." And with that, she left and closed the door.   
"Stupid bitch.." Daryl muttered, climbing out of bed and changed into a clean outfit, just jeans and a flannel that he cut the sleeves off.

  
He was the last to arrive at breakfast and ate some gross powdered eggs T-Dog made, and they were the best fucking breakfast Daryl has ever had cooked for him. Which was fucking sad, but Daryl wouldn’t sulk. He’d just woof his food down to try and fill up his stomach before Jenner lead them into this lab room, and presented how a walker’s brain worked, before and after turned. Daryl leaned back on one of the work stations and listened to the conversation, learning that the brain somewhat restarts to get the walkers to become monsters and no longer human. And it was fucking creepy. And it turns out, there was nothing left. No one else to look for a cure, as far as Jenner knew.  
"Ugh, I’m gonna get shitfaced drunk.." Daryl muttered, running his hands over his face. He hadn’t gotten the chance last night, but maybe tonight would be a good time for it. And on top of that, the fucking generators were almost dead. So that was fun. While Rick took Shane, Glenn and T-Dog on some sort of mission, Daryl stole a bottle of wine and disappeared into his room. Fuck it. He got a good half hour of peace before the lights in his room went out. Motherfucker.

He could hear the others out in the hall now, so he poked his head out too.  
"What’s goin’ on? Why’s everythin’ turnin’ off?"   
From behind, Jenner snatched the wine bottle from Daryl and kept walking down the corridor.   
"Energy use is being prioritized." Everyone followed behind Jenner, Daryl trying to get his wine back. Aah, he wasn’t even buzzed yet. Fuck.  
"Air isn’t a priority?" Dale asked. "And lights?"  
"It’s not up to me." Jenner responded, walking by him. "Zone 5 is shutting itself down."  
"Hey!" Daryl called after him. "Hey, what the hell’s that mean?!" When Jenner didn’t respond, Daryl ran up to his side. "Hey man, I’m talkin’a you! What do you mean it’s shutting itself down? How can a _building_ do anything?"  
"You’d be surprised."  
And Rick’s new adventure crew returned, entering just below them.  
"Jenner, what is happening?" Rick asked sternly, power walking next to the doctor.  
"The system is shutting down all the non-essential uses of power. It’s designed to keep the computers running to the last possible second. That started just as we approached the half hour mark. Right on schedule." Jenner took a swig of the wine that he’d stolen from Daryl that Daryl had stolen from him first. Fucker. But he handed it back, and Daryl yanked it from his hand, death glaring at him. He explained that the French were the last working on the cure before they ran out of power, and Rick ordered everyone to grab their shit just as an alarm began blaring and red lights started flashing.  
  
"What’s that?" Carl asked, frightened.  
"30 minutes to decontamination." Vi spoke, pulling up a timer on the big screen.   
"Doc, what’s goin’ on here?!" Daryl shouted, anger in his voice. He hated when no one filled him in on things.  
"Everybody," Shane hollered, "y’all hear Rick, get yer stuff and lets go! Go now! Go!"  
As they ran for the doors, they were suddenly sealed off.  
"Did you just lock us in?" Glenn hesitated. " _He just locked us in_!" But Jenner began recording some video message, ignoring them. Daryl wasn’t having it, he couldn’t be _locked in_. His anxiety was kicking in, as well as his fight-or-flight reflexes. Flight wasn’t an option, but fight was!   
"You son of a bitch!" Daryl charged at Jenner.  
"Shane!" Rick called, pointing at Daryl.  
"You locked us in here!"  
"No! Stop! Don’t!"  
"You lying--"  
"No no no!"  
Daryl had managed to shove Jenner’s chair before Shane was pulling him back, T-Dog grabbing up his legs as he struggled and fought to smash the wine bottle over Jenner’s head, he was so _angry_!  
"Wait no! Don’t do it!"  
Rick stormed over to Jenner, his voice venomous. "Hey Jenner, open that door _now_."  
"There’d be no point," he argued, "everything topside is locked down. The exits are sealed."  
"Well open the damned things!" Dale ordered.  
"That’s not something I control, the computers do. I _told_ you, once that front door closed, it wouldn’t open again, you heard me say that." Everyone was terrified now, god, they had no idea what was going on, just that they were being held captive for an unknown reason.  
  
"It’s better this way."  
" _What is_?" Rick demanded. "What happens in 28 minutes?"  
When Jenner didn’t answer, Shane yanked at his chair.  
"Well?!"  
"C’mon!" Daryl yelled.  
And Jenner jumped to his feet, screaming.  
"Do you know what this place is?! We’ve protected the public from some very nasty stuff! Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don’t want getting out! Ever!" It was scary to have Jenner shouting, and Daryl remembered why he hadn’t liked this man in the first place. Sad and unstable. No one said anything, so Jenner sat down, composing himself, and continued in a speaking tone rather than shouting.   
"In the event of a catastrophic power failure-- in a terrorist attack, for example--" he explained slowly, "H.I.T.s are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."  
"H.I.T.s?" Rick asked.  
"Vi: def-"   
Daryl cut him off, he remembered Merle mentioning this when talking about his army training. "High-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives! Little less big than a nuclear explosion, _it sets the fucking **air on fire**_!" Daryl panicked, as did the rest of the group.   
"No pain.." Is all Jenner could say after staring at Daryl for a moment. Not one person had dry eyes, they were all going to die. Die by explosion. And fire air. It sounded fucking brutal and terrifying.   
Daryl screamed and threw the wine bottle at the sealed off door angrily, watching it explode on impact. Everyone was either pacing or curled up sobbing, it was madness.   
"Open that damn door!" Ordered Daryl, and Shane ran up with an axe.  
"Outta my way!" Smack! He hit the door with it. And Daryl snatched an axe from Glenn, beginning to chop away at that fucker as well. But nothing was happening. Shane and Daryl made their way back over to where Rick was snapping at Jenner.  
  
"Can’t make a dent."  
"Those doors are designed to withstand a _rocket launcher_." Jenner informed.  
" ** _Well your head ain’t_**!" Daryl swung his axe backwards.  
"Whoa! Whoa!" Rick and Dale grabbed him, T-Dog rushing over to grab the axe away.  
"Daryl! Daryl!"  
"Just back up! Back up!"  
But Shane was the next to freak out, shooting all the damn computers with his shotgun until Rick pried it from his hands and clocked him with it. And while Rick played good cop, Daryl grabbed both axes, setting one down and used the other to start slashing at the door again. He needed to fucking _get out of here_. When those damn doors opened, Daryl was _gone_. He couldn’t wait for everyone else, he bolted up those stairs, everyone else (aside from Jacqui, Andrea and Dale) behind him. The doors upstairs wouldn’t open, so Daryl tossed Shane an axe and they began slashing away at the bulletproof windows, which wouldn’t fucking break.   
"Daryl, look out!" T-Dog called as he jumped up and started hitting the window with a chair, Daryl jumping out of the way. Shane tried shooting the glass, but it wouldn’t break either. Until Carol handed Rick a fucking grenade. Note to self: don’t fuck with Carol. So Rick set the grenade down after pulling the pin and ran, everyone down as it exploded and shattered the glass. Grabbing his crossbow, Daryl lept out the broken window, weilding both axes and chopped up some walkers on the way to the cars. Andrea and Dale managed to get out before the building exploded, and from there, they were on their way.

* * *

  
Another long day of driving passed, only to stop for bathroom breaks and Daryl to go off and hunt a couple rabbits he picked up the trail for, bring them back for a very small meal that would hold them over until later. On the road again, T-Dog driving with Daryl this time because Glenn needed a break from driving, Daryl just stared boredly out the window until he noticed something in his rear-view mirror. Shane’s jeep had come to a stop. And it didn’t start going again. The worst possible area, because walkers immediately began to swarm him, and Shane couldn’t even get to beeping the horn, he just grabbed his shit, jumped out and ran. Quickly unfastening his seatbelt, he moved over T-Dog’s lap, who began to protest, but Daryl stuck his head out T-Dog’s window and began stomping his foot down on the horn.  
"Kid are you crazy?!" Poor T-Dog was just trying’a drive, man. :(  
" _Go back for Shane! Go back for Shane!_ " Daryl hollered. Beep beep beeeeeeeep! He continued to stomp on the horn until the RV came to a stop, and T-Dog pulled up next to it. Daryl crawled back to his side and stuck himself out his own window. "Shane ran outta gas!"  
"You guys go ahead, we’ll get him." Rick ordered, and T-Dog drove ahead. Once Shane made it into the RV, Rick spoke over the C.B. and told everyone to regroup at the nursing home. Daryl scoffed, not exactly ready to go back there, but they turned around and headed for that damned nursing home.   
"Think they’ll still be pissed?" T-Dog asked.  
"If they are, ‘m eatin’ their dogs." Daryl mumbled.  
"... _What the fuck_ -"  
"It’s a joke, genius." Daryl scoffed a laugh. T-Dog chuckled as well. "Squirrels, yes. Dogs, fuck no. Merle would say sumthin’ like ‘I ain’t Glenn’ to that."  
"You ain’t like him, are ya?"  
Daryl shrugged, staring out the window. "Don’t agree with the whole race thing. Peoples are peoples."  
"Amen."

  
When they arrived at the nursing home, Daryl and the rest exited their vehicles and Daryl found himself walking up front with Rick.   
"I bet they’re barely hanging on." Came bitter Andrea, who’s been a bitch since the C.D.C. and even before. "What makes you think they’ll take in strangers?"  
"With all them guns we gave ‘em, they’ll throw us a damn party. Good call. _For once_." Daryl taunted Rick, who rolled his eyes. They made their way around and hopped through that damn window into the court yard to where the garage was, but there was no one in sight.  
"Where are the lookouts?" Glenn asked. When they rounded the corner, they were met with dead bodies being eaten by walkers. No way. This place was down already? Quickly they began shooting all the walkers while the women and children, aside from Daryl who was for some reason allowed to carry a gun, cowered, crouched down. After that Rick quickly lead them through the garage and into the nursinghome, where dead bodies laid about. The stench was horrible, and the place was a fucking mess.  
Sophia began to sob, and Daryl glared back at her for the noise she was making.   
" _Put a sock in it_!" He hissed back at her.  
Carol held Sophia close, glaring back at Daryl.  
"You leave her alone!"  
"Shut her up or I will!"  
"Back the hell off, I mean _now_!" Lori stepped in, and Daryl backed off. "Ok, where are we going?"  
"Nowhere, we don’t have the fuel."  
"We hunker down here for the night, Rick, you me and Daryl will sweep the building, make sure we’re alone. The rest of you barricade those doors."

Daryl was the first to enter the cafeteria, crossbow at the ready, looking through the scope until he saw it was clear. The place looked ransacked, a mess, like after the cops came in and raided the house for drugs after Merle got busted those few times. Tables were knocked over and dead elderly littered the floor. Which was weird, because they were all shot in the head. He assumed Shane and Rick already saw that though, it seemed kinda obvious once you actually looked. They continued upstairs, and there were more exictued elderly, even one woman still in her wheelchair. Daryl pushed a door open to find another man dead in a church looking room. The door said ‘Prayer changes things’. "Guess that didn’t work out so well for ya, did it bud?" Daryl mumbled, ducking out of the room to rejoin Rick and Shane.   
  
They regrouped back in the cafeteria, where everyone stood, uneasy.  
"Upstairs is our best bet." Rick informed. "We found a few rooms, we can barricade those if we have to. We’ll be alright."  
"You mean it this time?" Carol asked bitterly, holding Sophia on her lap. "Or are you lying to us like all the times before?"  
"That’s not fair, and no help at all." Lori defended.   
"What the hell happened?" Glenn asked glumly, looking around.  
"What do you think happened?" Andrea shook her head. "They got overrun."  
"Pft." Daryl scoffed as he was walking over.  
Annoyed, Andrea turned to glare down at the child.   
"Something to say?"  
"Yeah, how ‘bout _observent_?"  
"Observent?" Now it was Andrea’s turn to scoff. "Big word coming from a kid like you. Three whole syllables."  
"Walkers didn’t do this," Daryl continued, "geeks didn’t show up til all this went down. Somebody _attacked_ this place. Killed all these people, took whatever they wanted."  
Rick crouched down to one of the bodies, investigating it closer than just the quick once over he gave it before.   
"They’re all shot in the head, excicution style. Y’all worried about _walkers_? I’d be much more worried about the people who came and did all _this_." And to add insult to injury in Andrea’s case: "Get a dictionary." Daryl shouldered his crossbow as Andrea glared down at him. "Look it up. _Observent_." He pointed to his head as he emphasized the word, walking off to start scavenging the place. 

 


	7. Shit Only Gets Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group decides to take half as many cars as before, and head out to Fort Benning. But of course, that shit don't happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you guys can have a long chapter since the last two were tiny and pathetic~
> 
> Heart so Unobtainable should be updated tonight or early tomorrow morning, I know I've been slacking on that. But I have half a chapter written for it?? ^^"

Jeb and Donny. Those were the names of the men that entered the nursing home just after midnight. It was Daryl's watch, sitting on the staircase when he heard the men enter. Everyone else was asleep, so he decided he'd go take care of this. Picking up his already loaded crossbow, Daryl slowly and silently descended down the stairs. Jeb and Donny were loud. Loud enough that Daryl had caught their names when scolding each other for tripping over shit. They didn't know the layout of this place. Daryl did. Immediately he had the advantage. Eyes already trained to the darkness, he had another advantage. The other men had flashlights, he could see traces of them as they walked by the stairs, continuing to scope out the place. They were easy to follow, big guys with heavy footsteps. How they made it this long, Daryl could only assume they were with a larger group and they weren't usually allowed to scavenge. These would be an easy scare, he'd tell them to scram, cuz this was Daryl's place. Deciding now would be a good time to approach them when they were examining the cafeteria, Daryl made his last couple of footsteps audible, raising the bow at one of the men as they both turned around, flashlights shining on him and making his eyes squint slightly at the brightness.  
"Y'all best scram. Ain't no place for yous." He ordered in the most intimidating tone he could muster, barely able to see the men's faces. But one clearly sounded amused.  
"You alone, kid?"  
"Jus' me." He confirmed. "And it's gonna stay that way. _Scram_."  
"Kids shouldn't play with weapons, y'know." The other man sounded just as cocky as the first one. They both had shaggy beards, one was built with the tiniest bit of muscle, and the other was a chubber.   
"Kids shouldn't shoot y'all inna fuckin' 'ead, but that sure as shit ain't gon' stop me." Daryl threatened, teeth bared like a ferocious wild animal.

  
This caused both men to laugh in a taunting manner, and the chubber shined his flashlight directly in Daryl's eyes. Daryl flinched away, eyes squeezing shut and he heard a gun click, the safety removed. Immediately he ducked down and his crossbow was kicked from his hands the moment the gun went off. It flew above him, it wasn't meant to hit him. _Shit_. Two pairs of arms grabbed his own and hoisted him up onto a table, one man pinning him down, hovering over him.   
"Ain't kind to be makin' threats, is it Donny?" So the bulky guy was Jeb. Not really useful information.   
"Nope, nope it ain't." Donny agreed, shining the flashlight on Daryl. "Such a pretty thing. Unfortunately, that mouth ain't."  
"Maybe we could fix that!" Jeb gave a grin that made Daryl feel uneasy, and before he knew it, the toe of his boot connected with Jeb’s jaw, sending him backwards.   
"Hey!" Donny yelled and lunged for Daryl, but the chubber was slow, and Daryl rolled off the table and broke out into a sprint out of the room.   
"Motherfucker.." Jeb hissed out, both men bolting after the kid. They were quick to catch up, but Daryl got the upper hand by making sharp turns when they least expected it, ducking underneath discarded stretchers and leaping over knocked over side tables as he made his way through the corridors. He could hear Donny behind him, but where was Jeb? Suddenly he couldn’t hear the man behind him, his heart now racing so much he could hear it thumping in his ears. Fuck, this is when Merle would usually show up and bash these guys in the brains, but Merle wasn’t around no more. _Shit_.

  
As he turned another corner, he bumped right into Jeb. Found ‘im. The man grabbed him up, restraining his arms and Donny, panting heavily, grabbed his kicking legs.   
"Lemme go you dumb motherfuckers! I’ll beat’cher asses inna the _ground_!" Daryl cried out, squirming and trying to fight off these two men. It was near pitch black in the building, but Daryl could see something slowly approaching behind Donny, a walker! This was fucked, but he needed to save himself. Merle said to survive, and some people were outta their fuckin’ minds like Pa. Some people just had to go. So Daryl screamed louder, fought harder so they hopefully wouldn’t notice the walker slowly approaching, limping up behind poor dumb Donny. They only noticed it when teeth sunk into Donny’s shoulder and he let out a wicked yell, dropping Daryl’s legs. Using the momentum as his legs were dropped, he drove one foot back into Jeb’s kneecap, who also cried out and released his hold on Daryl, who quickly fled the scene and started for the cafeteria to retrieve his crossbow again. The sound of gunshots alerted Daryl that Donny and the Walker were both dead, and Jeb was probably livid. So that was fun. He quickly rounded back to the cafeteria, but stopped abruptly when he heard footsteps. Motherfucker, they were in front of him. So he ducked into a side room, looking around for something to throw, create enough noise for him to slip by Jeb. He threw a thermometer, but instead of it distracting Jeb, _it fucking hit him_. Oh son of a bitch.. He just gave himself away. Whoops. Jeb burst in through the room and grabbed Daryl up, throwing him on the counter.   
"I’m done with these fuckin’ games!"  
"Gonna ‘tract erry goddamn geek inna place if y’all don’t _shut the fuck up_." Daryl hissed out, but Jeb wasn’t interested. One arm across Daryl’s chest pinned him down, the other one working at Daryl’s belt. _Oh my god_. He felt his stomach sink into his shoes, grabbing his hunting knife and drove it into Jeb’s hand. Jeb fucking _screamed_ , and Daryl hopped off the counter, breathing hitched, but he didn’t have time to go full panic, because he heard the sound of a shotgun cocking and Shane and Rick entered the room, Shane with the big ass shotgun and Rick with his Python and a flashlight.   
  
"’fuck’s goin on in ‘ere?" Shane demanded, and Jeb froze.   
"Just scavenging.. Kid’s a fuckin’ fighter."  
"Defendin’ th’ place." Daryl glared daggers at Jeb, giving him a look that threatened to tell if he didn’t fucking leave.  
"And he stabbed you?" Rick asked skeptically, looking at the knife still in Jeb’s hand. Or, _through_ Jeb’s hand.   
"Misunderstanding.." Jeb knew he was outnumbered, and was smart enough to know when to quit at least. "Now I see this place is occupied, I think I’ll be on my way."  
"You’re alone?"  
"Had a buddy with me.. Got taken down by one of those things I reckon ten minutes ago."  
"Sorry to hear that.." Rick trailed off, and Jeb ducked on out and made a hasty escape for the exit.  
"Dropped my crossbow. Goin’a get it." Daryl made no hesitation to stay here and explain himself, Shane and Rick forced to follow behind. But Jeb didn’t get away. A few shots were heard, followed by Jeb’s screams. It sounded gruesome, and Rick and Shane had to cringe. Daryl couldn’t bring himself to feel bad. Not after that. So he grabbed his discarded bow and swiftly, silently, they made their way back upstairs after Daryl retrieved his knife from the now eaten Jeb. 

Once back upstairs, Rick poked his head into the room they were all staying in and told them that everything was fine now. Everyone had been awake now, Glenn on watch. Daryl was about to go back into the room, but was yanked back by the back of his shirt and he knew damn well it was Shane.  
"Why’d you go off on your own?"  
"Was handlin’ it." Daryl defended, jerking out of Shane’s grip.  
"You coulda been killed!"  
"I had the upper hand when you fucks came in! Wasn’t nothin’ I couldn’t’a handled!"  
"Daryl that guy was twice your size!" Rick came to Shane’s defense. Of course he would. "And his friend?"  
"His friend was stupid and they weren’t paying attention. I was." Was Daryl’s explanation.  
"This is _exactly_ what we _can’t have_ , Rick. He coulda put the whole group in danger." Shane sighed, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. "Those guys shootin’ up a fuckin’ storm down there probably drew in a _lot_ of unwanted attention."  
"Maybe if the others did a better job with the barricade.."  
"You ain’t takin’ watch no more."  
"You can’t do that!" Daryl was angry now. That wasn’t even fair! "Y’all would’a been dead if I hadn’t been on watch! I heard them, y’all wouldn’t’ve!"  
"He has a point.." Rick turned to Shane. And before Shane could shoot off his mouth again, Rick decided on a compromise. "Next time you hear something, you get one of _us_ , understand?"  
" _Whatever_." Daryl grumbled, storming back into the room and sat in the corner to try and just forget all that just happened.

* * *

  
They decided to ditch most of the cars, siphon the gas out of the ones they didn’t take, and load it into the tanks of the ones they did take. Carol’s cherokee, the RV, and Daryl’s mini motorcycle. It was just a regular motorcycle, but miniture. Merle rigged it up to work smoothly, and it didn’t take as much gas, but still got some pretty good mileage. So Daryl took the lead out on the road, heading to Fort Benning. It was probably a load of bullshit, but it’s what the group wanted to do. He knew the way, he knew all of Georgia from the random roadtrips he’d take with Merle after his little stays in prison. There was a big traffic jam up ahead, a huge truck had been knocked over. So Daryl turned around and rode back over to Dale.  
"See any way around?!" Dale called. Daryl only gave a nod, turning around again and began to lead them through, weaving through cars. Until that damn radiader hose blew. Daryl stopped and parked his bike as everyone began to exit their vehicles. As they all began talking, Daryl started scavenging cars. Lori complained, but no one gave a shit. He and T-Dog went off to siphon gas from cars while the rest scavenged what they could, until Daryl noticed a herd of walkers heading towards them. _Shit_. He had no way of warning the others, so he just silently ducked behind a car and waited. But T-Dog’s stupid ass got himself injured, and he was literally bleeding a trail right to himself. So when a walker got close to T-Dog, Daryl kicked it’s leg out and stabbed it in the skull, dragging it over T-Dog, motioning for him to _shut the fuck up_ and pulled a walker over onto himself as well, allowing the geeks to walk right past without even noticing them. 

Once the herd passed, Daryl knocked the dumb walker off himself and pushed the one away from T-Dog, giving him his red rag to hold over the cut he managed to get on a broken car window. They then learned that Rick and Sophia had taken off into the woods, and Rick came back without her. So.. that was _bad_. Daryl immediately headed into the woods, Rick, Shane and Glenn catching up.  
"Where you goin’?"  
"I can track her. C’mon, where’d you leave her?"  
No further conversation was made, Rick just lead them to where he had told Sophia to hide.   
"Sure this is the spot?" Daryl asked, looking into the little burrow Rick had said he stashed Sophia in before leading the walkers away from her.   
"I left her _right here_." He confirmed. "I drew the walkers way off in that direction up the creek. She was gone by the time I got back here. I figured she just took off and ran back to the group." They were ankle deep in the creek, Daryl surveying the area carefully as he listened to Rick’s details closely. "I told her," Rick pointed in the direction of Glenn, "go that way and to keep the sun on her left shoulder." Daryl trudged over to investigate.   
"Hey Short Round," Daryl called to Glenn, who immediately looked offended by the new nickname, "why don’t you step off to one side? You’re mucking up the trail."  
"Assuming she knows her left from her right." Shane’s two cents was now being thrown in.   
"Shane, she understood me fine." Rick countered sternly.  
"Kid’s tired and scared, man." Shane continued. "She had her close call with _two walkers_. Gotta wonder how much of what you said stuck."   
"Got clear prints right here." Daryl interupted, pointing to shoe prints just a little bigger than his own. "She did like ya said, headed back to the highway. Let’s spread out, make our way back."  
"Let’s go, she couldn’t’ve gotten far."

* * *

  
Rick and Daryl climbed out of the creek with the help of Shane, who decided to reassure Rick now. "Hey, we gonna find her. She’ll be tuckered out hiding in a bush somewhere." Daryl lead on, walking in a crouch to follow the tracks, soon kneeling down to inspect them.   
"She was doing just fine ‘til right here." Shane crouched next to him, inspecting the tracks as well. "All she hadda do was keep going, she veered off that way." He pointed to the right, just passed Shane.   
"Why would she do that?" Inquired Glenn.  
"Maybe she saw something," Shane suggested, "that spooked her, made her run off?"  
"A walker?"  
Daryl shook his head. "I don’t see any other footprints. Just hers."  
"So what do we do?" Shane asked. "All of us press on?"  
"No," Rick shook his head, "better if you and Glenn get back up to the highway. People are gonna start panicking. Let them know we’re on her trail doing everything we can. But most of all, _keep everybody calm_."  
"I’ll keep ‘em busy scavenging cars," Shane stood up, "think up a few other chores. I’ll keep ‘em occupied." Glenn and Shane took off, and Daryl pressed on, Rick on his tail, following the tracks Sophia had left.   
"Tracks are gone..." Rick observed quietly after a few hours, and he hadn’t seen anything else.  
"No," Daryl corrected, "they’re faint, but they ain’t gone." 1 point for the hunter, 0 for the cop. "She came through here." He pointed to what didn’t look any different from the rest of the forest floor to Rick.   
"How can you tell? I don’t see anything. Dirt, grass."  
"You want a lesson in tracking or you want to find that girl and get our ass off that inerstate?" Daryl spat out. Rick didn’t respond after that.

  
He’d never seen Daryl so focused before, so comfortable. Like the woods were Daryl’s domain. And, they were, really. It was weird, because it was so much easier to picture this kid out here instead of reading a comic book or playing videogames like Carl would do. It was rare now, that Rick remembered Daryl was just a child, younger than his own son. Because despite the temper, Daryl wasn’t childish or immature. He didn’t laugh or fool around or play like Carl and Sophia. No, Daryl was becoming a respected member of the group, treated as an adult. But he couldn’t help feel bad that they all treated him as an outsider, even though he was weird as hell. Life before the outbreak must’ve really hardened the kid, because last night he took on two grown men by himself, and Rick didn’t even doubt that Daryl would’ve been fine if he and Shane hadn’t showed up. He was a lot smarter than the others gave him credit for, a lot more dangerous too, temper only adding to what he was already capable of. He couldn’t help but wonder how Daryl became so good at hunting and tracking, it seemed as if the child was born with this ability. It came natural to him, the way he could see what Rick couldn’t, how he could stay perfectly silent while Rick was crunching leaves right behind him, and how swift and smooth his body moved. Like a snake, ready to attack. Each movement graceful and elegant, like he’d already calculated 10 steps in advance where he was going to place his foot next, never snapping a twig under his weight. The russling of leaves snapped him out of his thoughts, he and Daryl both freezing where they stood and crouched down, listening closely.

  
They peered over the clearing to see a lone walker, venturing off on it’s own. When Rick looked back at him, Daryl motioned for Rick to go right and he would go left. Rick gave a nod, both heading off in the directions Daryl planned for them to go in. Rick made some noise as he ran down the small hill, whistling at the walker, who growled at him. Rude. Daryl shot the fucker in the back of the head with the crossbow, piercing the brain and sent it falling forwards. Approaching the now dead-for-a-second-time geek, Daryl yanked his bolt from it’s skull.   
"Sophia!" His voice echoed, but there was no response. Meanwhile, Rick was crouched down, wearing gloves and began inspecting the walker’s hands. "Whadda ya lookin’ for?" Daryl asked.  
"Skin under the fingernails." Rick flipped the damn thing over, seeing fresh blood covering it’s mouth. "It fed recently. There’s flesh caught in it’s teeth."  
"Yeah, what kinda flesh?" Daryl asked, not too sure it was Sophia, but Rick looked worried.   
"Only one way to know fer sure." Rick grabbed out his knife and was about to cut the walker open, but Daryl stopped him.  
"Here, let me do it. How many kills you skin and gut in your life? Anyway," he drew his hunting knife, "mine is sharper." Kneeling down over the dead walker, Daryl held the knife with both hands and plunged it into the walker, beginning to cut it open. Rick looked fucking disgusted and couldn’t even watch as Daryl worked. Pussy. "Here comes the bad part." Daryl pulled on some gloves and began digging through the rotted guts. Rick looked like he was about to puke. _Pussy_. "Yeah, Hoss had a big meal not too long ago. I feel it in there."Daryl grabbed out what looked to be the stomach and dropped it in front of Rick.  
"I got this." Rick drew his own knife, sawing it open. God it was gross.  
"This gross bastard had himself a woodchuck for lunch." Daryl said as he used his hunting knife to scoop up the snout of the woodchuck. He flung it off and stood up.  
"At least we know." Rick stood up as well.   
"At least we know." Daryl agreed.

* * *

  
It was a goddamn walk of shame, heading back to the highway. Daryl wasn’t ready to face Carol, and he could only imagine how Rick felt since he’s the one who lost the fuckin’ girl in the first place. But Daryl did feel particially responsible, since he was supposed to be the tracker here, but he hadn’t located her either.   
"Oh god, they’re back!" It was Glenn’s voice they heard as they made their way up to the gaurd rail, Carol awaiting the return of her daughter that wouldn’t be tonight. She looked absolutely crushed when the two of them returned without her baby girl.  
"You didn’t find her?"  
"Her trail went cold. We’ll pick it up again first light." Rick tried to reassure, the rest of the group coming over to join them.   
"You can’t leave my daughter out there on her own to spend the night alone in the woods." Carol pleaded with Rick.  
"Out in the dark’s no good." Daryl quietly spoke up. "We’d just be trippin’ over ourselves. More people get lost."  
"But she’s _12_ , she can’t be out there on her own! You didn’t find anything?" She was starting to cry now, Lori rubbing her back to console her.  
"I know this is hard, but I’m asking you not to panic." Rick tried to calm. "We know she was out there."  
"And we tracked her for a while." Daryl backed Rick up. They were in this together now, damnit.   
"We have to make this an organized effort." Rick spoke to the entire group now. "Daryl knows the woods better than anybody. I’ve asked him to oversee this."

  
"You’re asking a _nine_ _year old_ to lead this investigation??" Lori was exasperated. What a bitch.   
" _Eight_ year old," Daryl corrected, "that can track better than all y’alls. Peoples is eaiser than animals, actually. They keep on a more predictable path. Jus’ gotta wait fer the light."  
"Is that blood??" Carol pointed to Daryl’s pants, starting to panic.  
"We took down a walker." Rick informed.  
"Walker?" Carol gasped out. " _Oh my god_."  
"There was no sign it was ever anywhere near Sophia." He should’ve said that to begin with.   
"How can you know that?" Came bitch ass skeptical Andrea. Rick looked uneasy and turned to Daryl, who on the inside was calling Rick a pussy for the third time.  
"We cut the sumbitch open, made sure."  
Carol sat down on the gaurd rail, seeming like she was going to have her own panic attack. Those are fun. She glared up at Rick suddenly, angry with him.  
"How could you just leave her out there to begin with?" Rick frowned, taking a small step back. "How could you just leave her?"  
"Those two walkers were on us." Rick tried to explain. "I had to draw them off. It was her best chance."  
"Sounds like he didn’t have a choice, Carol." Shane was at Rick’s side now, defending him calmly.  
"How was she supposed to find her way back on her own?" Carol sobbed. "She’s just a child.. she’s just a child..." And Daryl kept his mouth shut. He wanted to say cuz you raised a pussy lil girl, but he didn’t. Just zipped his lips.  
"It was my only option, the only choice I could make."  
"I’m sure nobody doubts that." Shane commented, though they were all sure Carol was doubting that. Nope, zipped lips. Wouldn’t say shit. " _My little girl got left in the woods.._ " Carol whispered. Everyone looked so lost, so defeated. Carol glared at both Rick and Daryl, and Rick had to go off on his own, the man looked so broken.

  
Without the other cars, sleeping was an awkward arrangement for everyone. Lori, Carl and Rick were stuffed in one bed, Glenn and Dale sharing another. Carol and Andrea would bunk together, and T-Dog would be taking Carol’s cherokee to sleep in. ~~Fat fuck~~. Daryl didn’t want to really sleep anywhere too close to people, so he wrapped himself up in a blanket and slept on the roof of the RV. He’s slept in more uncomfortable places, so he didn’t have much trouble falling asleep. He was awoken here and there by people coming on and off of watch, but he fell back asleep just as easily. He did, however, wake with another blanket than when he went to bed. Glenn’s blanket. Oh. Well, ok. He wouldn’t be returning it though. Glenn could climb his ass up here and get it, because of Daryl’s inability to say thanks.

* * *

  
Rick slapped an arsenal of weapons down on the hood of a car the next morning as they were planning their search mission for Sophia.   
"Everybody takes a weapon." But of course, Andrea had to bitch.  
"These aren’t the kind of weapons we need. What about the guns?"  
"We’ve been over that." Shane spoke up. "Daryl, Rick and I are carrying."  
"The toddler gets to carry, but I can’t??"  
"Motherfucker I am _eight_ , it ain’t that hard." Daryl huffed.  
"He knows how to handle it better than you. And we can’t have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles."  
"It’s not the trees I’m worried about." Andrea continued to complain.   
"Say someone fires at the wrong moment, a herd happens to be passing by." Shane was getting annoyed now. As was everyone else. "See, then it’s game over for all of us. So you need to get over it."  
"I’m an adult, he’s a _child_."  
"A child who’s more level-headed than all of us." Rick pointed out. And before this argument got any stupider, Daryl shifted back to the important topic.  
"The idea is to take the creek up about five miles, turn around and come back down the other side. Chances are, she’ll be by the creek. It’s her only landmark." Daryl walked off.  
"Stay quiet, stay sharp." Rick ordered. "Keep spaces between you but always stay within each other’s sights."  
"Everybody assemble your packs." Shane stuffed a water bottle into his.  
"Dale, keep on those repairs. We gotta get this RV ready to move."  
"We won’t stay here a minute longer than we have to." Dale reassured Rick. "Good luck out there. Bring Sophia back."  
  
Of course, Andrea’s little bitch fest was far from over, but after bitching at Dale, they finally got a move on. Daryl lead the way, everyone walking in single file behind him. It made him uneasy to have so many people behind him, but he just focused on his mission. Locate Sophia. And maybe then Shane wouldn’t want to kick him out of the group. Sure, Shane let him carry, but that didn’t mean he liked him. He could see it in the way Shane looked at him. It wasn’t long before they came across a tent, and Daryl motioned for everyone to get down.  
"She could be in there.." Shane speculated.  
"Could be a whole buncha things in there.." Daryl countered, slowly standing and began creeping forwards towards the tent. Crossbow raised, Daryl crept closer, Rick and Shane following while the others stayed back. When close enough, Daryl signaled for the two of them to stop and wait for him. He placed his crossbow down and drew his knife, silent footsteps approaching the tent as he began to check it out, peek inside from the partially opened door flap and around to the window. Looking back at Shane and Rick, he shrugged, not seeing anything. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t still something lurking inside that had been out of Daryl’s range of sight.  
"Carol!" Rick whisper yelled, and Carol jogged over to the tent. "Call out softly. If she’s in there, your voice is the first she should hear." Rick instructed, Daryl waiting with his knife raised, just in case.  
"Sophia, sweetie? Sophia, it’s mommy. We’re all here, sweetie." But there was no response. Rick and Shane crept closer and Daryl slowly unzipped the tent from the bottom. Stepping in, Daryl saw that there was blood splattered on the walls of the tent, and the toxic smell was enough to turn his stomach inside out. Well, if he had anything in there, he’d be puking it up, probably. There was a dead, rotting man inside a lawn chair on the inside, and it looked like he’d stuck a gun in his mouth and went through with it. He gently took the gun from the limp hand and stuffed it in the back of his belt as Carol began to call out for him.   
"It ain’t her." Daryl informed simply as he stepped out.  
"What’s in there?" Andrea asked. Well bitch if I wanted to say I would have.  
"Some guy. Did what Jenner said. _Opted out_." He grabbed up his crossbow, slinging it over his shoulder. "Ain’t that what he called it?"

  
Before anyone could respond, bells chimed in the distance. They all gave a nod, heading off towards the noise quickly. An old church maybe?   
"What direction?" Shane asked, slowing a bit.  
"I think that one, I’m pretty sure." Rick pointed, looking to Daryl for confirmation. Daryl gave a nod.  
"Damn it’s hard to tell out here." Shane whined.  
"If we heard them, maybe Sophia did too." Carol hoped.  
"Someone’s ringing those bells," Glenn insisted, "maybe calling others."  
"Or signalling that they found her." Oh for fuck sakes Andrea, the one time you be positive it’s gotta be stupid.  
"She could be ringing them herself." This was all just false hope they were feeding Carol. Honestly, it could be a damn trap. But Daryl kept his trap shut. Whatever.   
It was indeed an old church they came across, but it didn’t look very church-like.   
"That can’t be it." Shane doubted. "No steeple. No bells." It could be automated, but again, he couldn’t give these idiots all the answers. Daryl stayed quiet as they pressed on towards the building. They sprinted across the yard and up the steps to the big red doors. Rick took one side and Daryl took the other. Shushing everyone, they both pushed the doors open. It was a nice little building with rows of seats and a red carpet and.. people... sitting in.. the seats. What?? Walkers. Who looked like they had shown up early for a zombie wedding. What the fuck, why were they all sitting, spaced out, in the middle of the benches? Like, on the edge maybe, but those walkers put some fucking effort into that arrangement and it was disturbing.

  
Rick, Daryl and Shane all chose a walker, and Daryl, hopping up on the bench, took one swipe at the zombie bride and hopped down. Shane and Rick however, stabbed the shit outta their walkers. Crazies.   
" ** _SOPHIA_**!" Rick called loudly, storming out the side door. Daryl strolled up the aisle, up to the statue of a crucified Jesus. "Yo, J.C., you taking requests?" He muttered bitterly, turning back to where Shane was speaking to the group. And oh look, Rick’s back.   
"I’m telling you, it’s the wrong church. It’s got no steeple, Rick." _Automated church bells dickhead_. Ugh. "There’s no steeple." The bells sounded again, loudly now, and Daryl shoved passed everyone to get out of the building, looking up at the roof. Yup, had to be automated. Because it was definitely coming from _this_ building. The rest piled down the stairs after him, and Daryl pointed to a speaker. Yup. Automated. Glenn opened the control box and flicked it off angrily.   
"A timer.." Daryl panted out. "It’s on a timer." Ya fuckin’ idiots. Everyone went off to take a moment, but Daryl was close enough to listen to Shane and Lori bickering about Shane’s plans to ditch. And honestly, that sounded good to him. Fuck Shane. His affair with Lori was fucking annoying. And apparently he wasn’t the only one eavesdropping, because Andrea approached Shane about it after Lori slipped inside the church with Carol. Shane took off, but Andrea persued. And so did Daryl. Andrea talked about her and Shane being the outcasts of the group, and honestly, Daryl could relate. Andrea and Shane were big members of the group, really. But they were too dumb to see that. Andrea fled when she saw Rick walking near, and Shane went to speak to him. Rick looked distressed, but of course he did. The man was being eaten alive by guilt.  
  
"Y’all are gonna follow the creek bed back, ok?" Shane instructed, walking over. "Daryl, you’re in charge." Andrea looked pissed at that. "Me and Rick, we’re just gonna hang back, search this area another hour or so just to be thorough."   
"You’re splittin’ us up?" Daryl asked. He didn’t really think that was a good idea. "You sure?"  
"Yeah." Shane gave a nod. "We’ll catch up with you."  
"I wanna stay too." Goddamnit Carl shut up no. "I’m her friend." Was his argument. Daryl didn’t even stop himself from rolling his eyes. When Shane and Rick didn’t answer, Lori stepped forwards.  
"Just be careful, ok?"  
"I will." Carl nodded, hugging his mother. Baby...  
"When did you start growing up?"  
Lori and Rick went all mushy and kissed, and Andrea gave Shane a look. Shane just turned away. Rick tried handing over his gun to Lori, but she declined.  
"No, I’m not leaving you unarmed."  
Taking out the gun he picked up off the tent guy earlier, Daryl handed it to Lori. "Got a spare. Take it." And now Andrea _really_ looked annoyed. The two groups headed off in their designated directions, Daryl taking the lead of his own. It was weird, being _in charge_. But cool since his entire group was made up of adults. Finally, he could be seen with the authority he’d wanted for so long. Instead of being the dumb baby Merle and Pa always saw him to be, and even saw himself to be at times.

* * *

  
The treck back was a long one, especially since the sun was beginning to set and everyone was just pissy.   
"So this is it?" Carol plopped her ass down on a log. "This is the whole plan?" The rest stopped to allow Carol her break, though it was annoying because Daryl didn’t need one.  
"I guess the plan is to whittle us down into smaller and smaller groups.."  
"Carrying knives and pointy sticks.." Andrea please die. "I see you have a gun." She said to Lori. But Lori wasn’t going to fight her on this.  
"Why, you want it? Here, take it." Lori held it out to her. "I’m sick of the looks you’re giving me." Andrea looked bewildered, but took it. "All of you." Lori sat down. This was fun. "Honey," she addressed Carol, "I can’t imagine what you’re going through. And I would do anything to stop it. But you have got to stop blaming Rick. It is in your face every time you look at him. And when Sophia ran, he didn’t hesitate, did he? Not for a _second_. I don’t know that any of us would’ve gone after her the way he did. Or made the hard decisions that he had to make or that anyone could have done it differently." Holy shit shut up. "Anybody?"  
"If so, she couldn’t fight a damn walker." Daryl muttered. "We’d all have drawn ‘em away."  
"Y’all look to him and then blame him when he’s not perfect." Lori shook her head. God fucking damnit they were losing the light and everyone wants to play therapy with Doctor Fucking Phil over here. Pathetic. "If you think you can do this without him, go right ahead. Nobody is stopping you."  
Daryl turned to go, but Glenn pulled him back.   
"You’re in charge, you can’t ditch us."  
"Whatever.."  
Andrea hesitantly handed the gun back to Lori. "We should keep moving."

* * *

 

The only reason they stopped next was a gunshot that echoed off into the distance.  
"That was a gunshot." Lori confirmed.  
"We all heard it." Daryl stopped, turning around.  
"Why one? Why just one gunshot?"  
"Maybe they took down a walker?"  
"Please don’t patronize me, you know Rick wouldn’t risk a gunshot to put down _one_ walker."  
"Can that be said for Shane too?"  
" _Yes_."  
"Shouldn’t they have caught up with us by now?" Carol asked, concerned.   
"There’s nothing we can do about it anyway." Daryl pointed out. "Can’t run around these woods chasing echoes."  
"So what do we do?" She couldn’t believe she was asking a child for guidance.   
"Same as we’ve been. Beat the bush for Sophia, work our way back to the highway."  
"I’m sure they’ll hook up with us back at the RV." Gross Andrea. They attempted to walk off, but Andrea approached Carol instead, causing Glenn, Lori and Daryl to all stop. "I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I know how you feel."  
"I suppose you do." Carol somewhat agreed. Jesus Christ it’s Doctor Phil part 2. "Thank you. ...The thought of her out by herself... It’s the not knowing that’s killing me." And she was starting to get teary eyed again. Though Daryl couldn’t blame her. "I just keep hoping and praying she don’t end up like Amy." _Wow Carol._ And she realized her mistake at the hurt expression Andrea wore. " _Oh god_." Carol quickly took Andrea’s hands in her own. "That’s the worst thing I’ve ever said." Andrea just shook her head though, attempting to brush it off.  
"We’re all hoping and praying with you, for what it’s worth." Motherfucker this was getting old.   
"I’ll tell you what it’s worth--" Daryl approached the two annoying women, " _not a damn thing_. It’s a waste of time, all this hoping and praying. ‘Cause we’re gonna locate that girl, and she’s gonna be _just fine_." After a moment, he turned around to continue walking. "Am I the only one zen around here? _Good Lord_." The rest of the group followed after Daryl silently.

* * *

  
When Lori came to a stop, everyone else had too.  
"We’ll lose the light before too long." Daryl brought up. "I think we should call it."  
"Let’s head back." Lori agreed.   
"We’ll pick it up again tomorrow?" Carol fretted.  
"Yeah, we’ll find her tomorrow." That wasn’t a promise Lori could keep. Daryl gave a short whistle, gesturing for everyone to follow him back to the highway. "How much farther?"  
"Not much." Daryl answered back. "Maybe a hundred yards. As the crow flies."   
"Too bad we’re not crows." If Andrea bitches one more time--  
They hadn’t noticed when Andrea had lagged behind, ~~because no one gave a shit~~ , and only were alarmed when she began screaming a little ways away. They took off towards the screams, but some bitch on a horse came and took out the walker that was attacking her with a bat. Damn.   
"Lori? Lori Grimes?"  
"I’m Lori." Lori stepped up.  
"Rick sent me, you’ve got to come now." She demanded, which was odd. "There’s been an accident, Carl’s been shot. He’s still alive, but you’ve gotta come _now_." Lori looked shocked, but this bitch on the horse didn’t have time for that. "Rick needs you, just come!" So when Lori took off her backpack, Daryl frowned.  
"Whoa whoa whoa! We don’t know this girl! You can’t get on that horse!" But Lori ignored him.   
"Rick said you had others on the highway? That big traffic snarl?"  
"Uhuh.." Glenn nodded, in some sort of trance.  
"Backtrack to Fairburn Road. Two miles down is our farm. You’ll see the mailbox, the name is Greene." And she and Lori took off on the horse, leaving the others to wonder what the fuck just happened. The walker that had been hit with the bat slowly came back to life, letting out an annoying wheeze. Glenn and Carol looked terrified, but Daryl was irritated that there was another issue.   
" _Shut up_." He hissed at the walker, effortlessly sending a bolt through it’s brain as he walked off. Carol and Glenn, and even Andrea looked unsettled by his casualty, but Glenn yanked the bolt from the walker and followed after the irritable child leader.

 


	8. Cherokees and Chupacabras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Sophia continues, and I guess Carl is ok. Daryl begins to feel even more insecure about his place in the group, and he's destined to prove that he can still be useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm obsessed with writing this shit oh my god help.

"Shot? Whaddaya mean _shot_?" Dale asked frantically as the remaining members of the crew all returned to the highway.  
"I don’t know, Dale. I wasn’t there." Glenn responded, panting heavily from their sprint back. "All I know is this chick rode out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and took Lori."  
"You let her?" Dale asked Daryl as he stepped over the gaurd rail, knowing the child could be a lot more rational than the rest.  
"Climb down outta my asshole, man." Daryl hissed out. "Rick sent her. She knew Lori’s name, and Carl’s." Daryl walked back over to the RV, the rest following.  
"I heard screams," Dale turned to Andrea, "was that you?" Andrea just kept walking.  
"She got attacked by a walker." Glenn answered instead. "It was a close call."  
"Andrea? Are you alright?" Andrea just glared back at Dale before retreating into the RV. Bitch.

* * *

"I won't do it." Carol shook her head. "We can’t just leave."  
"Carol.. The group is split. We’re scattered and weak." Dale tried to reason with her.  
"What if she comes back and we’re not here?" Carol was frantic. She always was. "It could happen."  
"If Sophia found her way back and we were gone, that would be _awful_." Wow is Andrea actually helping? Probably not. But lets keep hope alive.  
"Ok." Daryl gave a nod. "We got to plan for this. I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave her some supplies. I’ll hold here tonight, stay with the RV."  
"If the RV is staying, I am too." Wow thanks Dale.  
Carol almost smiled. "Thank you. Thank you _both_." And Daryl just felt awkward, because wow no one has ever actually thanked him before. So he just gave a nod. Yup. That’ll do.  
"I’m in." Motherfucker we don’t need you Andrea please leave.  
"Well, if you’re all staying, then I’m--" Glenn tried, but Dale cut him off.  
"Not you, Glenn. You’re going. Take Carol’s cherokee."  
"Me?" Glenn scoffed in disappointment. "Why is it always me?"  
"You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people and see what’s going on. But most importantly, you have to get T-Dog there. This is not an option. That cut has gone from _bad_ to _worse_. He has a _very serious_ blood infection. Get him to that farm, see if they have any antibiotics."  
Daryl frowned, heading over to his mini motorcycle while Dale spoke.  
"Because if not, T-Dog will die. No joke."  
Daryl shot Dale a glare at the rag resting on his bike, snatching it off before going through the saddle bag. He pulled out a large zip lock bag of what looked to be perscription bottles and blue cristals at the bottom. Whippng the rag at Dale, he set the bag down on the hood of the nearest car.  
  
"Keep your oily rags off my motorcycle. Merle gave it t’me. Why’d you wait til now to say anything? I got my brother’s stash." He informed, going through the bag of what was revealed to be Merle’s drugs. "Crystal, X. Don’t need that... Got some kick ass pain killers." He recognized the order of the letters, since he didn’t have much to do but go through Merle’s shit and repeatedly ask what everything was. He tossed those to Glenn.  
"Oxycycline? Yeah. Not the generic stuff neither. It’s first class. Merle got The Clap on occasion." Giving a one shouldered shrug, Daryl took the bag back to his bike. Carol looked disgusted and Dale was just grinning.  
"How do you even know what that is?!" Andrea called after him.  
"Fuck you, I know shit!" Daryl called back.

* * *

　

The night at the RV was a painful one. Daryl was inside tonight, but Carol’s sobs wouldn’t cease. And Andrea was fiddling with her stupid gun. He couldn’t get comfortable on the damn floor of this RV. Even with his blanket underneath him. Too many people being awake unsettled him, especially around him. Andrea and that fucking gun sure wouldn’t put his mind at ease. She was gonna end up accidentally shooting him if she carried on like that. It was hot in this cramped metal piece of shit, he was sweating. And goddamnit he couldn’t take it anymore. He got up and grabbed his gun, shouldering his crossbow and walked up to Andrea.  
"Gonna need my clip now." She handed it to him, and he loaded it into the gun effortlessly. Hopefully it made that bitch jealous. "I’m gonna walk the road, look for the girl." He informed, because he couldn’t stay here any longer. Carol had heard him and perked up, and Daryl just gave her a nod. Flashlight out, he exited the RV and scoped out the area, trying to decide where he should begin looking. He heard footsteps exiting the RV behind him and whoop doop it’s Andrea. "I’m coming too." Motherfucker. Ugh, whatever.  
"I’m goin’ for a walk, see if I can shine some light into the forest." Daryl reffered up to Dale, who was up on the roof of the RV, taking watch. "If she’s out there, give her something to look at."  
"You think that’s a good idea right now?" Dale couldn’t help but be concerned for the child’s safety. And moreso, Andrea’s, because she was like a daughter to him. Even if she refused him.  
"Dale." Andrea scolded, taking the lead. And Daryl followed behind her.  
  
"You really think we’re gonna find Sophia?" Andrea asked once they were out and about, walking side by side, flashlights illuminating their path. Daryl narrowed his eyes and shined his flashlight up at Andrea’s face before scoffing, lowering it. She didn’t look convinced.  
"You got that look on your face, same as everybody else. What the hell’s wrong with you people? We just started lookin’."  
"Well, do you?" Andrea pried.  
"It ain’t the mountains of Tibet, it’s Georgia. She could be holed up in a farmhouse somewhere. People get lost and they survive. It happens all the time."  
"She’s only 12." Andrea countered, before remembering who she was talking to.  
"Hell, I was younger than her and I got lost. B’fore I was the expert woodsman you see here today."  
Andrea snorted.  
"Nine days in the woods eating berries, wiping my ass with poison oak."  
"They found you?" Andrea asked, frowning.  
Daryl shook his head. "My old man was off on a bender with some waitress. Merle was doing another stint in prison. Didn’t even know I was gone. I made my way back, though. Went straight into the kitchen, made myself a sandwich. No worse for wear. ..Except my ass itched something awful."  
Andrea snorted a laugh again. "Sorry, I’m sorry that is a _terrible_ story." But now they were both laughing softly, because it was kind of funny now. It wasn’t when it happened, but it was now.  
"Only difference is, Sophia’s got people lookin’ for ‘er. I call that an advantage."

Their treck through the woods was abruptly stopped at some rustling that startled them both. Crossbow at the ready, Daryl motioned for Andrea to follw him. And she did, without bitching about staying safe behind a child. Wow. They came across a seemingly deserted, one-man camp, but the walker hanging up in the tree by it’s neck said who it belonged to.  
"What the _hell_?" Daryl asked, shining his flashlight on the tree where a note was stuck.  
"’Got bit,  
Fever hit,  
World gone to shit,  
Might as well quit’."  
Daryl scoffed. "Dumbass didn’t know enough to shoot himself in the head. Turned himself into a big swinging piece of bait. _And a mess_."  
Andrea let out a sickly groan, bending over to hold her stomach.  
"You alright?"  
"Trying not to puke..."  
"Go ahead if you gotta."  
"No, I’m fine. Lets just-- talk about something else for a minute. How’d you learn to shoot?"  
"Gotta eat." Daryl replied honestly. "That’s one thing these walkers and us have in common. I guess it’s the closest he’s been to food since he turned." The damn thing was gasping and flailing it’s stupid arms, trying to reach for Daryl and Andrea, but being stuck up in the tree it didn’t have a chance. "Look at ‘im, hanging up there like a big pinata." He shined his flashlight on the fucker again. "The other geeks came and ate all the flesh off his legs." It was just bones and dried blood and torn pantlegs.  
And now Andrea was puking. Gross.  
"I thought we were changing the subject.." She commented miserably.  
"Call that payback for laughing about my itchy ass." He shot her a grin, and Andrea rolled her eyes, still recovering.  
"There wasn’t a lot that came up."  
"Huh. Let’s head back."  
"Aren’t you gonna...?" Andrea stopped him from walking off, motioning to the tree walker.  
"Nah, he ain’t hurtin’ nobody." Daryl glanced back up at the dumb motherfucker up there. "Ain’t gonna waste an arrow either. He made his choice. Opted out. Let him hang." Daryl tried to walk off again, but dumb Andrea only walked closer to the fucking thing.

  
Inwardly sighing, he walked back over to her.  
"You wanna live now or not?" When she turned around to glare at Daryl, he realized his tone may have been offensive. "It’s just a question."  
"An answer for an arrow." She negotiated, looking back up at Pinata Boy. "Fair?"  
"Mm-hmm." Daryl nodded, though he didn’t really agree. But still, it was nice to have dirt on people without them knowing jack shit about him.  
"I don’t know if I want to live." Andrea finally answered after a brief pause. "Or if I have to, or if it’s just a habit."  
"Not much of an answer." Daryl raised his bow and pulled the trigger, sending a bolt right through the walker’s head. "Waste of an arrow." So he headed back, not lingering so it’d force Andrea to actually follow. The walk back was silent, and when Daryl entered the RV, he was met with an angry Carol. He didn’t sleep that night.

* * *

  
They headed to the farm in the morning, and were met with everyone, new people and old, standing out to greet them. Carl would pull through, and Shane... looked like a fucking melon. The new people were Hershel, Patricia, Jimmy, Maggie and Beth. Too many girls, honestly. But whatever. And they were to have a funeral for the man they had lost, Otis. The funeral made Daryl uneasy, he still hadn’t gotten over Momma. So he clung to the vest Merle gave him that he now decided to wear. It was a bit big for him, leather, with white angel wings stitched on the back. He’d grow into it, though. When Shane was asked to speak, because apparently he shared Otis’s final moments, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. Daryl’s eyes narrowed at him, looking so hesitant with a smidge of guilt. No one else seemed to have seen it, but Daryl had. He went on how Otis died a hero, but Shane didn’t seem as sincere as he usually was when speaking. He wasn’t telling the truth. God, he was spewing bullshit, but all these people were desperate to believe that this man had gone down with honor that they didn’t see that Shane was lying through his teeth, the way he kept looking around to make sure people believed what he was saying before he went on. As Shane placed a rock on the grave created for Otis, Daryl knew he had killed him. Killed him to save Carl. And motherfucker, Daryl was terrified of Shane at this moment. It wasn’t like when Merle had shot Pa. Pa was different. Otis was a man trying to do right. And Shane had killed him all so he could get his dick back in Lori again. Breath hitching, Daryl turned and headed off quickly, everyone watching him off questionably.

* * *

  
It was a while before they regrouped at Carol’s cherokee, Maggie spreading out a map of the area.  
"How long has this girl been lost?" Hershel asked.  
"This’ll be day three." Rick informed.  
"County Survey Map. Shows terrain elevations." Maggie pointed out, and they all began to look over the map, Daryl climbing on the hood of the car to get a better look.  
"This is perfect," Rick sounded enthusiastic, "we can finally get this thing organized. We’ll grid the whole area, start searching in teams."  
"Not you, not today." Hershel interjected. "You gave three units of blood. You wouldn’t be hiking five minutes in this heat before passing out. And your ankle--" He turned to Shane. "Push it out now, you’ll be laid up a month, no good to anybody."  
"Guess it’s just me." Daryl decided, looking over the map again. "I’m gonna head back to the creek, work my way from there."  
"...Is he serious?" Hershel turned to look at Rick.  
"He does what he wants, has no ties to anyone who can tell him what to do." Rick sighed. "It’s complicated... He knows what he’s doing."  
"I’m not sure I can allow this."  
"Try an’ stop me." Daryl challenged.  
"I can still be useful." Shane chimed in before Daryl ended up punching the man. "I’ll drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back."  
"Alright, tomorrow then. We’ll start doing this right."  
"That means we can’t have our people out there with just knives." Shane reminded. "They need the gun training we’ve been promising them."  
"I’d prefer you not carrying guns on my property." Hershel grimly stated. And this is why Daryl is glad he has his crossbow. "We’ve managed so far without turning this into an armed camp."  
"All due respect," which is probably none at all, coming from Shane, "you get a crowd of those things wandering in here..."  
"Look, we’re guests here." Rick tried to reason. "This is your property," he turned to Hershel now, "and we _will_ respect that." Rick set his python down on top of the map. Shane was reluctant, but dropped his own pistol down as well. "First things first: set camp, find Sophia."  
"I hate to be the one to ask," he’s probably not, "but someone’s got to. What happens if we find her and she’s bit? I think we should all be clear on how we handle that." Shane suggested.  
Rick was hesitant with his answer for a moment. "You do what has to be done." Oh, but everyone threw a fit back at the Quarry when that’s what Daryl was trying to do. Hypocrites...  
"And her mother? What do you tell her?" Maggie looked disgusted with Rick.  
"The truth." Andrea answered for him.  
"I’ll gather and secure all the weapons." Shane went on, but an exchange of looks between Maggie and Hershel made Daryl wonder just what _these_ people were hiding. "Make sure no one’s carrying until we’re at a practice range off site. I do request one rifleman on lookout. Dale’s got experience."  
Hershel didn’t respond, so Rick stepped up.  
"Our people would feel _safer_ , less inclined to carry a gun." He tried to persuade, and Hershel gave a nod, giving in. "Thank you." And Daryl headed off with Shane and Andrea. Time to get this show on the road.

  
He set up his tent he used to share with Merle, and soon started off the property to begin his search.  
"Daryl!" Rick called out to him. Son of a bitch. He stopped and half turned to meet Rick, who was approaching him now. "You ok on your own?"  
"I’m better on my own." Daryl stated sternly. "I’ll be back before dark." He tried walking off again.  
"Hey!" _Shit_. He stopped and turned to Rick again. "We got a base. We can get this search properly organized now." Daryl didn’t like where this was going.  
"You got a point, or are we just chatting?" Daryl made sure to come off mean, intimidtating to mask his worries.  
" _My point_ is it lets you off the hook." Please no. "You don’t owe us anything." _We don’t need you anymore_ is all Daryl heard. Turning his back, Daryl started quickly walking off again.  
"My other plans fell through." Son of a bitch, he needed to go have a meltdown. They were going to kick him out of the group now, since they didn’t need him. They had a map, people who knew the land better than him, and they had a functioning place with a farm. He didn’t need to hunt for them anymore. Which meant: they didn’t have any reason to pretend to like him no more. They didn’t need him anymore, so he’d be off packing by morning. He knew it.  
Daryl took to the woods, and it was a long search. A long way of coming up empty. Where the hell had this bitch gone? Her legs weren’t too much bigger than his, even in three days she couldn’t’ve gone far.

  
But coming across a house gave Daryl hope. He kicked open the door and raised his bow, ready to fire at anything that jumped out at him. The floor creaked under him as he walked, and he hated it. He couldn’t stay silent if the ground wasn’t working in his favor. The place was dusty and dirty, furniture knocked over. Not necessarily ransacked, but people seemed to have packed and left in a panic, understandably. The back door was wide open, so anyone could be in here. And that was unsettling. He continued around and almost missed it: an opened can of sardines. They smelled awful, but still fresh. Not like they’d been there too long. Someone was here recently. Tossing it back into the trash, he spotted a cabinet just slightly opened. Raising his bow, he crept towards it carefully and yanked it open, jumping back. Just shelves of canned food on top. But the bottom had a little space with a blanket and a pillow. Someone not much bigger than him could fit in, but not an adult. Sophia had been here. But she wasn’t now. He sighed and exited the house.  
"Sophia!" he’d call, but as usual, no answer. "Sophia!" Not a damn sound. He was about to head off when out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. A cherokee rose. He remembered the story of them from school, the few times he actually attended. This had to be a sign. He picked it, and headed off to continue his search before it reached night.  
  
No Sophia. He couldn’t find that damned girl anywhere. He returned just as it was getting dark, grabbing an old beer bottle he found and placed the cherokee in there. He assumed Carol would be in the RV. She always was, nowadays. So when he entered, there she was. He was slow to approach her, just in case she still hated him. They were alone now, she could say anything while they were alone. She could get angry at him for not finding her little girl. He was supposed to be the one to find her, and this is the third time he’s failed. But he would try again tomorrow..  
"I cleaned up." Carol gave him a soft smile. Not what he’d been expecting. "I wanted it to be nice for her." Daryl nodded in agreement, looking around the tidey RV.  
"For a second I thought I was in the wrong place." His response made Carol chuckle, but then looked down sadly to what she had been doing. Knitting? Daryl didn’t know. But he reached up and placed the cherokee on the table carefully.  
"A flower?" Carol seemed confused. A rough kid like Daryl didn’t seem like the type to be picking dasies and all that shit.  
"It’s a Cherokee Rose." He explained quietly, shifting a little awkwardly. When Carol didn’t seem to understand, he stepped forwards. "The story is that when American Soldiers were moving indians off their land on the Trail of Tears, the Cherokee mothers were grieving and crying so much cuz they were losin’ their little ones along the way. From exposure, disease, starvation.. A lot of ‘em.. Just disappeared. So the elders, they said a prayer; asked for a sign to uplift the mothers’ spirits. Give them strength. And hope. The next day, this rose, started to grow, right where the mothers’ tears fell. I’m not.. fool enough to think there’s any flowers bloomin’ for my brother." Carol wiped at her tears, eyes glued to little Daryl as he spoke. "But I believe this one," he motioned down to the cherokee he’d picked, "bloomed for your little girl." Carol sniffled, wiping her eyes again, giving another smile, a genuine one this time. Daryl was the first person to really console her since Sophia disappeared. Daryl was still awkward though, heading to the door. But he slowed and looked back to Carol. "She’s gonna really like it in here." And quickly, Daryl ducked out of the RV.

* * *

  
"Alright, everyone’s getting new search grids today." They were back at the map the next morning, Daryl having barely woken up when T-Dog called for him. He was still getting dressed on his way out the tent, pulling on a worn flannel with the sleeves still intact, surprisingly. "If she made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl found, she might have gone down further east than we’ve been so far." Rick explained.  
"I’d like to help." Jimmy walked up. "I know the area pretty well and stuff."  
"Hershel’s ok with this?" Rick inquired.  
"Yeah yeah. He said I should ask you."  
Rick gave a nod. "Alright then. Thanks."  
"Nothing about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me." Shane added in. Asshole. "Anyone could’a been holed up in that farmhouse."  
"Anybody includes her, right?" Andrea shot back while Daryl huffed, climbing up on the hood of the car to see the map. "Whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger’n me, really."  
"It’s a good lead." Andrea complimented.  
"Maybe we’ll pick up her trail again." Rick suggested, and by that, he meant Daryl. Because Rick can’t track for shit.  
"No maybe about it. I’m gonna borrow a horse, head up this ridge right here, take a bird’s-eye view of the whole grid. If she’s up there, I’ll spot her." Dale came with the bag of weapons, setting them next to Daryl on the hood of the car.  
"Good idea." Came T-Dog. "Maybe you’ll see your chupacabra up there too." He teased, and Daryl snarled at him. Jimmy grinned and Rick looked somewhat concerned, wondering if he heard that right.  
"Chupacabra?"  
"What, you never heard this?" Dale asked. "Our first night in camp, Daryl tells us that the whole thing reminds him of a time he went squirrel hunting and he saw a _chupacabra_." Jimmy snorted, and Rick glanced over at Daryl, giving him a look.  
"What’re you braying at, Jackass?" He challenged.  
"So you believe in a blood-sucking dog?" It was the most childish thing he’s gotten to hear about Daryl. And that was somewhat concerning, considering the boy was only eight.  
"Do you believe in dead people walking around?" Daryl countered. And Rick didn’t have a comeback for that. His attention was brought to Jimmy again, who attempted grabbing a rifle off the car.  
"Hey hey. You ever fire one before?" Rick grabbed it from him.  
"Well if I’m going out, I want one." Jimmy replied.  
"Yeah, and people in hell want slurpees." Daryl shouldered his crossbow and hopped off the car, heading for the stables.  
  
It wasn’t hard getting a horse, and he grabbed the one already saddled. He climbed up on the horse and headed off into the woods. He’d have it back before Hershel w0uld even notice it was gone. He put his skills to the test, hunting while riding the horse and looking for Sophia at the same time. He caught a squirrel, and continued on his way. He pulled up on the reigns once he spotted something though. Down in the creek, it seemed to be some sort of doll. _Sophia’s doll_. He’d walked off before it happened, but at Morales and his family’s departure, Eliza gave Sophia her doll. And Sophia never put that damned thing down. She must’ve dropped it. He hopped off the horse and made his way down the slope and across the water which was easy to walk in. It hadn’t even reached the top of his boots. He grabbed up the doll, which dripped water in his hand and back into the creek.  
"Sophia!" He called, and his voice echoed louder than it had any other time. But no response. So he hiked back up the slope and climbed back on the horse, continuing his treck across the ridge. The horse got spooked when some birds flew by, but Daryl pulled on the reigns to settle it. "Woah, easy." Once the horse calmed, he made a little kissy noise to get it going again. He was so focused on the grid and trying to pinpoint Sophia that he hadn’t seen the snake, hidden in the leaves. But when it darted away, the horse freaked the fuck out and began bucking up and down, Daryl trying to keep a hold on it. But it was no use, he was knocked off and he went tumbling down a hill, much bigger than the last one he went down due to being higher on the ridge. The horse took off and Daryl rolled down the leaves and onto rock where the water had been running down. He slid down the rock with the water and hit the floor of the creek hard.

There was a sharp pain in his side, above his hip and below his ribs. Everything else ached, but his side hurt the worst. "Son of a _bitch_!" He had hit his head quite a few times and he was dizzy and soaked, laying in the damn water. His dirty blond hair was an even dirtier blond. He barely managed to lift his head up to see the damage, and gasped out sharply when he saw an arrow protruding through his side. From the back and out the front, bloody. Yup, it was completely through his side. It was a lot of effort to get up, and he didn’t even fully stand. He just crawled through the creek, over to the land, grunting and groaning the whole splash-filled trip there. Once in the dirt and out of the water, he sliced his sleeves off of his shirt and tied them together to use to hold the arrow in place until he could get back and use some proper medical supplies to treat it. After re-sheathing his knife, Daryl looked up at what he needed to climb. It was basically a fucking mountain. Standing up was already a damn chore, climbing up that motherfucker was going to be a goddamned nightmare. But he fuckin’ had to. So he got up and grabbed a large stick, pushing it into the groud to test it’s durability. He didn’t weigh much, and for once he was grateful for his small figure, because it would help him get up that ridge. Not only that, but it’d help him locate the crossbow he’d lost in the creek. The water was too dirty for him to see through, so he trudged back through the creek and began using the stick to feel around for it. It took a while, but he finally pulled it out of the water and back over to shore. But this painful trip was only beginning. Using the stick as support, he tried his damnedest to climb back up the side of the ridge. God it was a pain in the ass, but he had the doll in his belt, and his crossbow tied beside it, he could head back, horse be damned. He was going to fucking shoot that dumb sonovabitch if he ever saw it again.

  
He used the trees and roots sticking out of the ridge to try and pull himself up, and soon got rid of the dumb stick once it was completely useless, and attempted the rest of the climb on his own. He growled at himself as he was panting and struggling, irritated that he couldn’t do this. "Oh, come on. You’ve already done half." He scolded. "Stop being such a pussy." He tried to hoist himself up by using the tree as support, but it was too much for his small body to handle and he fell backwards, tumbling right back down with another hard, painful landing. He laid on his back in the dirt, drifting in and out of consciousness. His head was all fucked, he couldn’t see straight, everything hurt. He couldn’t die out here, not like this. Suddenly, Merle was kneeling over him. Where the fuck had he been?!  
"Why don’t you pull that arrow out, dummy?" He taunted. "You could bind your wound better." And honestly, he’d already thought of that. He just knew it’d be a bitch to do and wanted to avoid it as long as possible. Still, he couldn’t help but smile in relief that big brother was here to rescue him.  
"Merle."  
Merle laughed. "What’s goin’ on here? You taking a siesta or something?" Asshole.  
"Havin’ a shitty day, bro."  
"Like me’a getcha a pillow? Maybe rub your feet?"  
" _Screw you_." Even though a pillow sounded nice.  
"Uh-uh. You’re the one screwed, from the looks of it. All them years I spent trying to make a man of you, this is what I get? Look at you." Daryl felt ashamed, lying here in the dirt, bleeding out like a dumb helpless baby. Merle was angry with him. _Disappointed_. Daryl hadn’t meant to disappoint him, but he had again. "Lying in the dirt like a used rubber." Ew. "You’re gonna _die_ out here, little brother. And for what?"  
  
"A girl. They lost a little girl." Daryl answered weakly.  
"So you got a little girlfriend now? Always thought your lil’ pussy ass swung the other way."  
" _Shut up_."  
"Cuz I noticed you ain’t out lookin’ fer ol’ Merle no more."  
"I tried like hell to find you, bro."  
"Like hell you did. You split, man. Lit out first chance you got."  
" _You_ lit out. All you had ta do was wait. We went back for ya, Rick and I, we did right by ya."  
"This the same Rick that handcuffed me to that rooftop in the first place? Forced me to cut off my own hand? This him we’re talkin’ bout?" And suddenly, Daryl knew he was hallucinating. This Fake Merle had both his hands. Real Merle only had one. He threw Merle’s other hand at some spanish prick. " _You his bitch now_?"  
"I ain’t nobody’s bitch." Daryl hissed.  
"You’re a joke is what you are, playing errand boy to a bunch of pansy-asses, niggers and democrats." Merle scoffed a laugh. "You’re nothing but a freak to them. _Redneck trash_. That’s all ya are. They’re laughing atcha ‘hind yer back. You know that, don’t you?" And Daryl gave a small nod. He’d always known it. "I got a little news for ya, son. One’a these days, they’s gonna scrape ya off their heel like you was dogshit." Daryl was drifting out of consciousness again, but a slap on the chest jolted him awake again. " _Hey_. They ain’t yer kin," Merle reminded, "your blood. Hell, you had any damn nuts in that sack of yours, you’d go back there and shoot your pal Rick in the face for me." It was fucking tempting. Fuck Rick, trying to be subtle about not needing him yesterday. Stupid Prick.  
  
"Now you listen to me." Merle grabbed Daryl’s jaw in that way he did whenever he said the next line. "Ain’t nobody gonna care about you except _me_ , little brother. Ain’t nobody ever will." Because it was him and Merle against the world. When Merle was _around_ , anway. "Come on, get up on your feet before I have to kick your teeth in." _Violent_. "Lets go." Merle gave Daryl’s foot a little kick before starting to pull on it. But suddenly, it wasn’t Merle pulling on his foot, but a walker gnawing and growling at his boot. _Shit_. He panicked and backed away, kicking it in the head. But it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t reach for his crossbow, and now another walker was beginning to approach. Quickly he grabbed the discarded stick he’d thrown earlier and got on top of the first walker, beating it’s face in and stabbed it through the skull. Then he scrambled for his crossbow, but he was out of bolts. Motherfucker. So he laid down and pulled the other bolt free from his side, not breaking off the end or anything. Then it wouldn’t shoot right. It needed to be balanced. So it was the worst pain imaginable, yanking that arrow through and out of his body, which he placed between his teeth as he used all of his strength to pull the string back to load the bow. But he heard it click and inserted the arrow, shooting the geek in the head just as it reached him. The arrow pierced it’s skull and it fell down beside him. He laid there a while to recover, but when he was ready, he got up and slipped off the torso of his shirt to use as padding for the hole in his side, and tied it in place with his shirt sleeves. He wore his tanktop now, which was now brown and dirty. Fuckin’ thing was white this morning.  
  
"Sumbitch was right.." He muttered to himself. He cleaned off his knife the best he could in the creek before cutting open a squirrel to eat some of. After that, he stuffed Sophia’s doll back underneath his belt, tying the crossbow next to it again, and unlaced one of his boots. Using the lace, he strung up some walker ears to it and made himself a necklace. Hopefully the stench of that would mask his blood’s scent. Because he was bleeding a lot. They had to have smelled him earlier. So masking his scent was his best bet. After that, he made another attempt up that fuckin ridge. It was more painful than the first attempt up, but he was more desperate to get up now. These fucking people wouldn’t get the satisfaction of him dying off. If they wanted to be rid of him, they’d have to do it themselves. He wouldn’t die out in the woods. This place was his home. It wouldn’t turn on him now. But holy shit he was tired. Fuck getting his wound taken care of, when he got back, he’d be making a beeline for his tent to take a fucking _nap_. When he looked up at the ridge, Fake Merle returned. He was laughing at Daryl. Goddamnit, go away Fake Merle.  
"What’s the matter, _Darylina_?" Fuck that nickname, it made him so angry! He wasn’t no damn girl! "That all you got in you? Throw away’hat purse and climb!"  
"I liked it better when you was missin’." Daryl grunted out, struggling to make it up to the fucking top, please, for once today. Merle laughed at him again though.  
"Come on, don’ be like that! I’m on your side!"  
"Yeah, _since when_?" Daryl scoffed out.  
"Hell, since the day you were born, baby brother. Somebody had to look after your worthless ass." And now Daryl was angry. All that repressed anger for his stupid brother was surfacing. Anger for Merle always leaving to jail, angry that he had left him with their father, angry that Merle never knew about the scars across Daryl’s back because he had left and there was no one to protect him.  
"You never took care of me." Daryl spat out. "You talk a big game, but you was never there. Hell, you ain’t here now. Guess some things never change."  
"Well I’ll tell you what-- I’m as real as your _chupacabra_." This motherfucker was _not_ going there.  
"I know what I saw!"  
"And I’m sure them shrooms you ate had nothin’a do with it, right?" Merle laughed.  
" ** _You best shut the hell up_**!" Daryl was now struggling harder up that damned ridge, if it meant punching Merle’s fucking teeth in.  
" _Or whaaaaat_? You gon’ come up here and shut my mouth for me? Well, come on and _do it_ then, if you think you’re man enough."  
Daryl’s heart was racing, lungs on fire as he panted and whimpered, trying harder to get up this ridge, harder than anything he’s ever set his mind to.  
"Hey! Kick off them damn high heels and _climb_ , son!" Merle’s taunting laughter echoed through his ears and made his blood fucking _boil_. This motherfucker was so getting a nutshot and Daryl was going to spit _right in his mouth_. The two things you should never do in a fight, and Daryl was gonna do ‘em _both_.  
"You know what? If I were you, I’d take a pause for the cause, brother. Cuz I just don’t think you’re gonna make it to the top." But Merle was _wrong_. The top was edging nearer and nearer as Daryl climbed, his anger and insecurities feuling him to survive and to get up there and beat Merle’s stupid face in.  
"Come on, come on, little brother. Grab your friend _Rick’s hand_."  
  
Daryl grabbed a fistful of dirt from the top of the ridge, and yanked himself on up. Up on his knees, he looked around, but saw no one. Nothing but trees. Where’d Merle go??  
"Yeah, you better run!" In the back of his mind, he knew it was just Fake Merle. But he’d allow himself this one victory after all today’s bullshit. Hair matted and bloody, brown and red and pink instead of blond at this point, Daryl brushed it out of his eyes and started his painful walk back to Hershel’s farm.  
  
He was dragging his crossbow behind him by the time he made it out of the woods, walking slowly back up to camp. It wasn’t until they were right there that Daryl noticed Shane, Rick, T-Dog and Glenn all running at him with weapons. He could only imagine how he must look. But he was just pissed off and in pain right now, he didn’t care. Rick pointed a gun at his head, Shane had a pickaxe, T-Dog had a bat, and he couldn’t even see Glenn’s weapon. He stopped walking once Rick pointed that fucking python at his head.  
"Is that Daryl??" Glenn asked, horrified to see the child in the condition he was in.  
"That’s the third time you’ve pointed that thing at my head!" Daryl hissed at Rick, confirming he was still alive. They all let out a breath in relief, Shane taking off his hat and resting his body down at his knees. "You gonna pull the trigger or what?" Rick lowered the gun, and Daryl relaxed. But then he heard a gunshot and suddenly he was on the ground, his temple on fire and Rick was screaming. What the fuck, did Rick seriously just shoot him?? " _I was kidding_." He hissed out as Shane and Rick pulled him up, Shane taking him completely in his arms as he blacked out. Dale and Andrea ran over, panicked.  
"Oh my god! Is he dead?!"  
"Unconscious, you just grazed him." They looked over the limp, bloodied child in Shane’s arms.  
"But look at him, what the hell _happened_?!" Glenn asked, on the verge of freaking out. " _He’s wearing ears_." He pointed out, and everyone looked to Daryl’s creepy ear necklace. Wow. Rick looked up to see Hershel and the rest of the group, plus Hershel’s people running out. Quickly he yanked the lace from Daryl’s kneck and shoved it into his own shirt.  
" _Lets keep that to ourselves_."  
"Guys! Isn’t this Sophia’s?" They turned around to see T-Dog holding up Sophia’s doll that had fallen from Daryl’s belt. Oh, and Glenn has the crossbow.

 


	9. Shadow of the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farm fun ensues, secrets are revealed, and Daryl is in pain for most of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my fucking gOd. I have been so busy, but I swear I haven't forgotten about this. I've been writing here and there and finally have enough for a chapter I am almost comfortable with writing. This swerves off the canon path almost completely at the end, and it's going in a different direction than the show does. I have a direction I wanted to take this in, and I think it'd be enjoyable to read.

The sharp pain jolted Daryl back into consciousness, feeling a wet cloth running over his dirty, and now bare torso. Three pairs of eyes were on him, staring intensely at the mess of scars his tiny body was made up of. From knives to belts to cigarettes, Daryl was the fucking poster boy for Child Abuse.   
"Quit starin’." He muttered, now noticing it was Hershel, Shane and Rick all gathered around him. "Ain’t no damn circus attraction."  
"Who did this?" Rick asked softly, a hand slowly brushing Dary’ls hair out of his face after the boy flinched at the approaching appendage.   
"Probably that no good hick, Merle." Shane grumbled in response, but couldn’t help but look at Daryl with sympathy. He hadn’t dealt with many child abuse cases back on the force, but none of them were this severe. Same with Rick.  
"Merle don’t even fuckin’ know ‘bout it." Daryl hissed out in his brother’s defense. Because it was true, Merle was unaware of most of the abuse Daryl endured when he wasn’t around. And Daryl would like to keep it that way. Hershel handed Daryl a rag to hold to his temple to slow the bleeding as he began to stitch up the arrow wounds on Daryl’s side and back.  
"I know you’re in pain," Rick splayed a map out in front of Daryl on the bed, "but we need to know where you found her doll." Gazing over the map, Daryl soon pointed to the creek in the area he had just come from.  
"Found it washed up on the creekbed right there. She must’ve dropped it crossin’ there somewhere."  
"Cuts the grid almost in half." Rick observed, giving a knowing glance back to Shane, who remained silent.   
"Yeah, _you’re welcome_." Daryl grunted out in bitter pain. It was pretty damn annoying that he seemed to be the only one searching for Sophia anymore, and Shane didn’t even seem to fucking care. And why wasn’t he gone already? He had talked to Andrea and Lori about leaving back at the church a day ago, why the fuck was he still here? Did he pussy out and change his mind? Was Lori being a cock tease and leading him on some more? Or maybe he just decided to stop being a crazy sonovabitch and actually work with the group again. Not taking that last one on faith, though.  
  
"How’s he looking?" Rick asked Hershel when he was finished stitching the archer boy up, snapping Daryl back to reality.  
"I had no idea we’d be going through the antibiotics so quickly." Was Hershel’s response, snipping the last of the stitching off once he tied it off. "Any idea what happened to my horse?" He asked the injured child in bed, walking over to the bowl of water to clean his hands .  
"Yeah, the one that almost killed me?" Daryl scoffed out, resting his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes. "If it’s smart it left the country."  
"We call that one Nelly," Hershel shook the water droplets off his hands, reaching for a rag to dry them, "as in Nervous Nelly. I could’a told you she’d throw you _if you bothered to **ask**_." And Daryl let out a small huff. "It’s a wonder you people have survived this long." Hershel stepped up to Rick.  
"Look, Hershel, we’re sorry. I’ll get everything under control." Rick apologized, but Hershel shook his head. "I want someone keeping an eye on this one. He’s too young to be out and about on his own."  
"Fuck that." Daryl interjected, but was ignored,  
"You say his brother and parents are missing? Well, I hope one of you _adults_ step up and take care of this one. You have a search party for one kid and more than family caring about another, this child deserves the same care and attention, if not more considering his age and... these new circumstances." Hershel gestured to Daryl’s scarred body. "If I have to take the boy into my care, I will."  
Rick nodded in understanding. "You’re right, I’ll ask around, see what I can do."  
"Ain’t gettin’ no babysitter." Daryl mumbled. He didn’t need anyone to take care of him. Not even Merle. He could fend for himself. Hell, he _has_ been.

  
Apparently, everyone was having a nice dinner inside. Of course, Daryl wasn’t invited though. He probably wouldn’t’ve been even if he wasn’t injured. That was also fucking annoying. But of course, with the farm, they didn’t need him anymore. Why eat squirrels when you have chicken and pork and beef? He wasn’t useful anymore. Not even for the hunt to find Sophia, all laid up and injured. He just pouted, blowing a dirty strand of blond hair out of his face that was sticking out of the gauze around his head as the door opened behind him. It was Carol with a tray. He glanced back before pulling up the blankets to cover his body up quickly.   
"How are you feeling?" She asked gently as Daryl adjusted himself, clinging to the pillow with one arm, the other hand tightly gripping the blanket, back to her.  
"’bout as good as I look." He replied quietly, honestly as she set the tray down.   
"I brought you some dinner. You must be starving." At the mention of food, Daryl turned to look back at what Carol had brought in. Looked like chicken and mashed potatoes and some kind of ....juice? It was red, so he was assuming that’s what it was. Unless she actually brought him some wine. Probably not, but he could dream. He would eat when she left, so he just turned back over. But that only revealed his scars to Carol again. She looked at them sadly before leaning over Daryl, who flinched before she kissed him gently on the forehead. Huh?? He looked up at her, confused as she had pulled away before awkwardly adjusting his blanket.  
"Watch out, I got stitches..." It was a cover up for his flinch, a poor one at that, because he always did it. He was pouting and glaring at the wall on the other side of the room during the next pause of silence until Carol spoke up again.  
  
"You need to know something." She was speaking to him as if he was an adult now, and that caught his attention, especially the seriousness in her tone. He turned back to look at her, ignoring the throbbing in his side that was worsening from all the wiggling around he’d been doing. "You did more for my little girl today than her own daddy ever did in his whole life." It was praise. And Daryl didn’t know how to accept praise. Especially since he didn’t deserve it. He frowned, knowing all he really did today was put himself out of commission because he had decided to go off and play cowboy without consulting Hershel on the fucking horse he decided to ‘borrow’.   
"I didn’t-- do anything Rick or Shane wouldn’t’ve done." He pointed out, wanting her to know that he wasn’t any good. He didn’t want her to think too highly of him, only to be let down.  
"I know." Her confident tone surprised him though. And she said something he wouldn’t ever expect to hear. "You’re every bit as good as them. Every bit." Such genuine and sincerity in her voice made it hard not to believe her. But Daryl just turned on his side, back to her, and waited for her to leave. He pulled the blanket up to his shoulder, holding part of it to his cheek as he thought over the interaction. She couldn’t believe that, could she? He couldn’t be. He was nothing. Suddenly he felt trapped in this small room, like a caged animal. He was quick to down the food and drink -- which was in fact juice -- and drifted back off to sleep. It would pass some time before he could sneak back out to his tent whilst everyone else was sleeping. This bed was comfortable and it made him feel _un_ comfortable. If that made any sense. He wasn’t used to such luxury, and it only made him feel uneasy. So his stupid tent seemed like the more calming option.

  
The next morning Daryl was back in his tent, just listening to the sounds of camp around him. Everyone was doing chores, and it seemed that Carl was up and about now. That was good, at least. Dumb kid took long enough to recover. As he listened, Glenn seemed jumpy and Maggie seemed determined on keeping his mouth shut. But he couldn’t quite hear what they were saying. He’d investigate more on that later, because right now, Andrea was approaching his tent. He was just sticking an arrow through the plastic window over and over, creating little holes when she entered.  
"Hey.." She stepped in slowly, sitting on Merle’s empty cot as she handed him a book. "This is not that great, but..."  
Daryl took the book and flipped through the pages before scoffing a laugh, looking up at Andrea.   
"What, no pictures?" He teased, hoping she still didn’t think he was stupid anymore like she used to about a week ago.  
"I’m so sorry, I feel like shit." She apologized.  
"Yeah, you and me both." Daryl dropped the book on the floor of the tent, reaching behind him to adjust his pillow in a more comfortable position.   
"I don’t expect you to forgive me," Andrea continued as Daryl laid back down, "but if there’s anything I can do...?"  
"You were tryin’a protect the group." Daryl brushed it off. It was unnerving to have someone feel bad for him, guilty about injuring him. He didn’t like it, it was so foriegn to him he’d let this dumb bitch off the hook if it meant she’d stop feeling so damn bad about it. At least, out loud. If she wants to suffer in silence she can go right the fuck ahead. "We’re good." Andrea seemed to accept that, because she got up and exited the tent.  
"But hey," Daryl stopped her before she got too far, causing her to turn around as he called, "shoot me again, you best pray I’m dead." He threatened, fidgeting with the arrow now between his fingers once again. Andrea gave him a nervous smile before silently heading off. Well, that went well. Glenn continued to be jumpy and it was revealed that Carl had stolen a gun. The dumb Grimes Kid told the adults everything they wanted to hear to get himself in training, and somehow, it worked. He should’ve had it a long time ago, in Daryl’s opinion.  
  
_"There’s walkers in the barn and Lori’s pregnant."_ Was definitely something he wasn’t supposed to hear. Glenn had spilled to Dale, and Daryl heard the whole thing. Dale apparently went to speak to Hershel about it, but was basically told to fuck off. So that’s how the morning went. When everyone returned from gun training, everyone was praising Carl with how well he did, smiling and laughing. It made Daryl’s blood boil. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t be jealous, could he? No, just because Carl got pats on the bag for hitting a few bottles out of the many shots he took while Daryl hit nearly every target with every shot he took and was only told he wasn’t ever good enough, that didn’t mean he needed to envy dumb Carl Grimes. Did it? Tears stung his eyes as he moved his pillow to fold across the back of his head and push against his ears so he didn’t have to listen to all these dumb people who didn’t even like him anyway. Let baby Carl have his stupid praise, he was probably some sensitive little bitch boy still who needed his mommy to tell him he did a good job. Fuck these people.   
  
Drama continued to ensue, Lori got her damn abortion pills from a very pissed off Maggie, Shane and Andrea actually fucking went to look for Sophia up in a housing community miles away, and when they returned, it was obvious the two did more fucking than looking. _Disgusting_. Stupid Shane couldn’t keep it in his goddamn pants and Andrea was even dumber than Daryl thought. The world is going to shit and all anyone can think about is sex. Lori is already pregnant, how many more babies did this fucking group need? It was pretty fucking amusing, however, when Dale got all fatherly and pissed off, trying to kick Shane out. And Dale called him out for what happened to Otis. So Daryl wasn’t the only one who suspected something was up. Well, Dale had just become Daryl’s favorite member of this stupid group. Apparently Otis wasn’t the first time Shane had thought to go all murder crazy though, because Dale said he’d been there when Shane raised his gun on _Rick_. Well, as if fucking his wife wasn’t bad enough...  
  
"So you think I’m the kinda man that’d gun down my own best friend?" Shane had been getting in Dale’s space now. "What do you think I’d do to some guy I don’t even like when he starts throwing accusations my way?" He threatened, tone venomous and it began to scare even Dale.   
" _Ahem_." Daryl cleared his throat, causing both men to look the kid’s way. "Goin’a take a piss." He muttered, as a fake excuse as to why he made his presence known. But the three of them all knew Daryl had just witnessed what had gone on. Shane shook his head and walked off, Daryl in the opposite direction, and Dale was left stunned by Shane’s death threats. The night was incredibly tense after that, and chatter was kept to a minimum at dinner before everyone retreated into their tents for the night.  
  
Carol had scrambled up eggs the next morning, and Daryl was eager to eat. Not a crumb of food had passed his lips yesterday, but now today he was out in a camping chair, eating with the rest of the group. He sat close to T-Dog, since he didn’t really mind this asshole too much either. Glenn was recieving death glares from Maggie, who was standing all the way over on the porch, shaking her head at him. Probably warning him to keep his damn mouth shut about the barn. Daryl was just waiting for it all to spill out and everyone to go batshit over it, because no one in this group seemed to know how to just shut the fuck up and be quiet. Though it was unsettling to have a barn full of geeks just across the property. Daryl had seen men and women and children ripped apart by those things. And Merle had taught him to put those fuckers down by any means necessary. Because just one left lingering could come back and bite you in the ass. _Literally_. Daryl didn’t have a fork like the rest of the group, he just picked up little puffs of scrambled egg and stuffed them into his mouth hungrily. His fingers weren’t too dirty, he wiped them off on his pants before. Plus dirt didn’t taste so bad anyway. Didn’t really have much of a taste. It was just dusty and grainy and stuck to everything when wet. More obnoxious than gross. And it’s not like dirt was gonna make him sick. It was just _dirt_.   
  
"Um, guys.." Glenn began, walking over in front of the group after Dale gave him a nod. Here we go. He got everyone’s attention pretty quickly, since his nervousness hadn’t exactly been kept on the down low that past few days. Especially not yesterday. Carol handed Daryl a fork with a small grin, and Daryl huffed, taking it. Fine. "So..." The young asian man stalled, looking around at the rest of the camp’s residents, "the barn’s full of walkers." And there it is. Everyone apart from Daryl and Dale stared at Glenn in either horror or disbelief, because that sounded fucking crazy. But, everything was crazy these days.   
  
The trip over to the barn was silent and tense, and when they heard the quiet growls from inside, they knew Glenn had to be telling the truth.  
"You cannot tell me you’re ok with this." Shane hissed at Rick.  
"Of course I’m not, but we’re guests here. This isn’t our land." Rick defended.  
"We can’t just sweep this under the rug." Came Andrea, as if her opinion has ever mattered.  
"It ain’t right, not remotely." T-Dog added in.  
"Ok, we’ve either got to go in there, we’ve got to make things right, or we’ve just gotta go." Was Shane’s gameplan. But fuck that. "Now we have been talking about Fort Benning for a long time."  
" _We can’t go_." Rick argued.  
"Why, Rick? Why?" Shane was frustrated. What a melon head.   
Carol stepped up. "Because my daughter’s still out there." She was pissed.  
"Ok." Shane scoffed a humorlesss laugh, running his hands over his face. "Ok, I think it’s time that we all start to just consider the other possibility." He said in the least insulting way he could muster.   
"Shane, we’re not leaving Sophia behind."  
Carol looked as if she was going to break down into tears, and Daryl stepped up now. "I’m close to finding this girl, I just found her damn doll two days ago!" But Shane was belittling him, scoffing at him too. "You found her doll, Daryl. That is what you did. You found a _doll_."  
"You don’t know what the _hell_ you’re talking about!" Daryl jerked his arm through the air to emphasize his point.  
"I’m just saying what needs to be said!" Shane yelled back. "You get a good lead, it’s in the first 48 hours!"  
"Shane, stop." Rick tried to diffuse the situation.   
"Let me tell you something else, _kid_."  
Daryl squared up to Shane, fists clenched at his sides.  
"If she was alive out there and saw you comin’ all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, _she would run in the other direction_!"  
"You shuddup!" Daryl lunged at Shane, only to be caught by Rick, and now everyone was yelling as Daryl squirmed to free himself of Rick’s hold, Shane egging the child on. Daryl was furious, nearly free of Rick’s hold. But when Shane shouted "I’ll beat your ass, boy, I’ll beat your ass" was the last fucking straw. Daryl jerked from Rick’s hold and drove his eblow into Shane’s stomach, causing him to double over. Now that he could reach, he punched Shane right in the face. But that only pissed Shane off. He hit back, sending Daryl straight to the ground, planting his boot firmly on the side of Daryl’s head.  
"You wanna fuckin’ _test me_ kid?!" His threats didn’t get much further when Rick had shoved him off of Daryl, Carol pulling the child up to check on his now bruising cheek, but Daryl just growled and jerked out of her hold. He darted off into the woods, leaving a few others calling out for him and Shane nursing a bloody nose.  
  
He hadn’t been expecting to be hit back so hard. His cheek was throbbing, temple on fire again, and he was dizzy. Daryl slumped down against a tree, taking deep breaths. He stupid Shane. He just decided to relax a bit, wait until everyone was back at camp. Then he could go look for Sophia again. He had to. Shane was going to convince everyone to leave without her. And poor Carol, she needed her little girl. He’d take a horse again. Just because dumb ol’ Nelly had bucked him off, didn’t mean that it’d happen again. And he’d be prepared this time. He pushed himself to his feet and made his way back to the stables, grabbing a saddle to put on one of the horses. Just because Hershel removed them this time wasn’t going to stop him. He set the saddle down on a rack, panting slightly and holding his side. He could feel the stitches pulling at his skin in the most painful way.   
"You can’t." Jesus Christ, Carol wouldn’t leave him alone.  
"I’m fine." He grunted out as Carol marched over to him.   
"Hershel said you need to heal."  
"Yeah, I don’t care." Daryl grabbed the reigns for the horse and began putting them on one. Not dumb fucking Nelly again, that’s for sure. Though the stupid horse had found it’s way back to the stables yesterday morning.   
"Well I do."  
Daryl wouldn’t let up. He just continued to ready the horse for travel.  
"Rick’s going out later to follow the trail."  
"Yeah, well, I ain’t gonna sit around and do nothing." Daryl muttered.   
"No, you’re gonna go out there and get yourself hurt even worse." Carol responded in a scolding tone of voice, which only angered Daryl. No one cared before, why start now? He didn’t want anyone to care, he just wanted to locate this dumb girl so they could leave. Then they couldn’t kick him out of the group because they’d need him again.   
"We don’t know if we’re going to find her, Daryl." Daryl froze. What? " _We don’t_." Daryl turned around to look at Carol. Had she lost her mind? Was she giving up too? Daryl just stared at her in disbelief. " _I don’t_." Yeah, it seems she’d given up. What was _wrong_ with these people??   
" _What_?" Daryl asked, walking over to Carol. He was angry, that much was clear. And Carol looked like she wanted to cry. She always did.   
"Can’t lose you too." Daryl didn’t wanna hear that. He wanted to be needed, but he didn’t need no one pretending to care about him. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to be Sophia’s replacement in Carol’s mind. Everything was confusing, overwhelming, Daryl just wanted to be left alone, to do what he’s gotta do. As tears ran down Carol’s face, Daryl threw the reigns down and walked over to violently shove the saddle to the ground, hissing in pain as he injured his side in the process.   
"Are you alright?" Carol rushed over, but Daryl just swatted her away.  
"Just leave me be!" He snarled, stomping off. "Stupid _bitch_."  
  
Carol caught up with him a little bit later as he was walking to the pond. Instead of shooing her off, he just silently allowed her to follow. When they approached an area by the pond with some overgrown grass, Daryl pointed.   
"You see it?"  
"See what?" Carol asked, curiously following behind the feral little boy. Daryl pointed again, stopping in front of some more cherokee roses.   
"I’ll find her." It was his symbol of hope. More of them had bloomed. Why else would they? Sophia was still out there. And Carol just needed to believe it again too. There was a long pause before Daryl worked up the courage to say what he was about to say next, not really looking at Carol as he spoke. "Hey, I’m.. sorry about what happened this morning."  
"You wanted to look for her." Carol justified softly, having no ill feelings towards the boy. "Why?"  
Daryl rose a brow, looking up at Carol with confusion.  
"This whole time I’ve wanted to ask you."  
"Cuz I think she’s still out there." Daryl shrugged, before giving a little more honesty. "Truth is, what else I got to do?" Carol didn’t respond to that. He wasn’t looking for an answer anyway. She just reached out and gently brushed her fingertips across the petal of one of the cherokees.  
"We’ll find her. We will." Carol smiled down at the boy. "I see it." He hoped she had her faith back. Dumb Shane needed to stop shitting on everyone’s mood.  
  
"Does anyone know what’s going on?" T-Dog asked, approaching Glenn and Maggie on the porch with Andrea.  
"Where’s Rick?" Glenn asked.  
"He went off with Hershel. We were supposed to leave a few hours ago."  
"Yeah you were, what the hell?" Daryl hissed, returning from his walk with Carol.   
"Rick told us he was going out." Carol said.  
"Damn it!" Daryl growled. "Isn’t anybody taking this seriously?! We got us a damn trail!" Everyone stared at Daryl, of course. "Oh, here we go." Daryl began walking over to Shane, who was approaching with the bag of guns. He was still pissed at the other man for the big ol’ bruise he left on his face this morning, but he could hold that grudge later. "What’s all this?" Shane hadn’t answered, only handed Daryl a rifle.   
"You with me, man?"  
"Yeah." Daryl nodded, taking the gun and cocking it.  
"Time to grow up." Shane marched up to the group and Hershel’s family all on and around the porch, Daryl trailing behind him. Suddenly he was important, and Daryl would always step up when needed. "You already got yours?" He asked Andrea.  
"Yeah, where’s Dale?" She asked, and Shane narrowed his eyes, passing out guns.   
"He’s on his way."  
"Thought we couldn’t carry." Came T-Dog, watching Shane skeptically.  
"We can and we have to. Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. But now we know it ain’t." It wasn’t hard to guess where Shane was going with this dumb speech of his. And Daryl was willing to take out those walkers in the barn if he had to. Even if he didn’t have to, those ugly fuckers had to go.   
"How bout you, man?" Shane approached Glenn. "You gonna protect yours?"  
Glenn was hesitant, but took the shotgun from Shane, much to Maggie’s disgust.  
"How bout’chu? Can you shoot?" Shane asked her.   
"Can you stop?" Maggie was hostile. "You do this, you hand out these guns, my dad will make you leave tonight." It was a threat, one that Shane didn’t take too seriously.   
"We have to stay, Shane." Carl interfered, and now here comes Lori.  
"What is this?"  
"We ain’t goin’ anywhere, ok?" Shane reassured, as if it were his call. "Now look, Hershel, he’s just gotta understand. Ok? He-- well, he’s gonna have to. Now we have to find Sophia, am I right?" He walked over to Carl, kneeling down to the boy’s level with a gun. "Now I want you to take this. You take it, Carl, and you keep your mother safe." Though Daryl was sure he’d end up shooting himself in the foot first before he protected a damn thing. That was kept to himself, though. "You do whatever it takes. You know how. Go on, take the gun and do it." But Lori pushed her way in front of Carl.   
"Rick said no guns, this is not your call." She relayed sternly. "This is not your _dicision_ to make."  
" _Oh shit._ "  
Everyone looked off in the direction T-Dog was staring off in, and saw Jimmy, Hershel and _Rick_ with _walkers_ , leading them on these poles onto the property.

  
Shane just fucking went off. Daryl kept his rifle pointed at the closest walker, eyes narrowed as Shane yelled at Hershel.  
"These things aren’t sick! They’re not people! They’re dead! Ain’t gonna feel nothing for them, cause all they do is kill! These things, right here!" He shot the damn walker in the chest several times, screaming at Hershel about how a living person couldn’t keep coming after all that.  
"Shane, enough!" Rick screamed.   
"You’re right, that is enough." He marched up to the walker and put a bullet in it’s head. Hershel’s family all looked horrified, because they believed Shane had just murdered someone right in front of them. Someone they knew.   
"Enough risking our lives for a little girl who’s _gone_!" Shane hissed at Carol, and suddenly Daryl turned his gun on Shane.   
"Fuck you, we ain’t riskin’ nobody! You’re the only one risking people!"  
"No, it’s _you_ , Daryl, _you_!" Shane accused, angrier than ever now that Daryl had a gun pointed at him. "We lost half our fuckin’ camp because you and Rick decided to go off and look for _Merle_! Amy is dead because you wanted to go find that piece of shit! And now you’re on some other rescue mission for a _dead_ little girl, coming back looking like a fucking geek yourself! Andrea shot you in the goddamn head, you almost _died_ and you’re still carrying on! For a dead little girl! For racist, drug addict Merle who probably kicked your ass more times than you can count! You’re getting more people killed!" Shane ranted, but Daryl only growled at him, standing his ground.  
"You mean like you risked Otis?! How you lied about that man’s death when you’re clearly the cause of his death?!"  
Shane narrowed his eyes down at Daryl.  
"You don’t know what yer talkin’ bout kid, you best shut up!"  
"You said he went out like a hero! That he told you to run and he’d hold them off! Tell me Shane, how did he do that?! You brought back a dead man’s gun! How’d he hold them off? Did he fucking _bite them back_?! Don’t you fucking yell at me when I’ve kept you fed for months! Kept your dumb bitch and her dumb kid fed! Kept Lil’ Shane to be fed! I’ve worked more for this fucking group than any’a y’all put together!" Shane couldn’t take it anymore. He picked up a pickaxe and began breaking the locks off the barn doors. Shane and Lori screamed at him to stop, and for Hershel to take the dumb pole that held the walker, but Hershel was just stunned. When those doors opened, shots rung out, and it was an absolute massecre. Well, they were already dead, the farm people walkers, but now they were double dead. Daryl stepped up, the only one getting a headshot every time he pulled the rifle’s trigger. Glenn soon joined to help with Maggie’s approval, and the people who weren’t shooting were watching on in horror, Carl being a baby and crying in his mommy’s arms. It was silent when it seemed the last body had fallen, but small growls from inside the barn had caused everyone to raise their weapons once again until the last walker stepped out of the barn and into the light.  
  
**_Sophia_**. She was filthy, a large chunk of flesh had been bitten out of her shoulder, and she’d clearly been dead for a while now.  
"Sophia!" Carol cried, sprinting over towards what used to be her daughter. Daryl, as shocked as all the others, quickly grabbed Carol’s wrist and pulled back with enough force to drop her to her knees and held her around the shoulders, rifle discarded in the dirt as she began sobbing madly for her dead daughter. How? How could she be dead? She was here the whole time? Daryl was so sure she was out there, how did this happen? Carl was sobbing as well, and when Rick stepped up to put the girl down, Daryl covered Carol’s eyes as he fired the gun. Sophia’s lifeless body dropped to the ground, and Carol hunched over, sobbing out her daughter’s name. Daryl couldn’t deal with this right now. When Carol sobbed into her arms, Daryl took the chance to sprint off, to go clear his head. Everything was just _wrong_.  
  
As everyone was digging graves for Sophia and the others, Daryl decided to go sit in the RV with Carol, hoisting himself up on the counter. He wasn’t sure if the company was for her or for him. He’d been sitting alone in his tent for so long, and suddenly he felt he craved the presence of another person. Carol barely acknoweldged him, and for some reason, that bothered him more than he would’ve thought. He thought her pestering was bad, but the silent treatment seemed worse. Was she-- _mad_ at him? No, she was just mourning her daughter. That Daryl had given her so much false hope for, even forced her to hope again when she was giving up, only for her daughter to be dead all along. The silence was deafening, but Daryl wouldn’t be the one to break it. Instead it was Lori, who walked up the steps into the RV.   
"They’re ready. Come on."  
Carol shook her head. "Why?"  
"Cuz that’s your little girl." Daryl spoke up.  
"That’s not my little girl." Carol denied. "That’s some other... _thing_. My Sophia was alone in the woods. All this time I thought..."  
Daryl’s stomach sank with guilt, and his chest physically began to hurt. He hadn’t meant for this to happen.   
"She didn’t cry herself to sleep. She didn’t go hungry. She didn’t try to find her way back. Sophia died a long time ago."  
Lori just ducked out of the RV, and Daryl was quick to follow. He didn’t know what to say, he just felt angry, mostly at himself. How could he have kept this whole thing up? As if he’s ever done a damned thing in his life.   
  
The funeral was hard to get through, hardly an eye was dry. Daryl placed Sophia’s doll and a cherokee rose in with her in her grave before she was buried, and stood away from the group for the moment of silence. When it was over, Daryl took his crossbow and took off, he needed to be alone. He ended up relocating his tent away from the others and hung up his squirrels from the hunt. He wouldn’t eat any dumb farm food no more. He could fend for himself, he always could. And he would again. It was dark when he heard footsteps at his little camp, and he spotted Carol right before he grabbed up his bow. So silently he made his way up behind her, angry. He didn’t want her near him anymore. He didn’t want no one anymore. Only Merle. But he had failed to find him too.  
"What are you doing?" Carol jerked around quickly obviously startled by the boy.   
"Keeping an eye on you." She answered, looking down at Daryl.   
"Ain’t you a peach?" He replied in an angry, sarcastic manner. He needed to push her away. He was closing himself off from everyone, putting up a wall. He had to. It’s how he dealt with emotions. He didn’t.   
"I’m not gonna let you pull away. You’ve earned your place." But that just sounded like bullshit. It wasn’t fair that Carol or Lori didn’t really do shit, and they had an automatic place in the group while Daryl was literally risking his life with little to no appreciation and was still outcasted. Why did he have to earn his place? Hell, he didn’t even want a place here anymore. He just wanted _Merle_.  
"If you spent half your time minding your _daughter’s business_ instead of sticking your nose in everybody else’s, she’d still be alive!" He snapped at her.   
"Go ahead."  
"Go ahead and _what_?"   
Carol said nothing.  
"I mean just go! I don’t want you here!" And he squared up to her when she didn’t leave, he just needed to be alone and she wouldn’t listen. "You’re a real piece of work, lady. What, are you gonna make this about my daddy or some crap like that? Pfft! Man, you know jack! You’re afraid." He accused, and Carol just let him go off. He wasn’t the sweet little boy with the cherokee rose anymore, or, that’s what he was trying to convince her of. He was trying to be mean, make her sad, make her leave him alone. "You’re afraid cuz you’re all alone! You got no husband, no daughter. You don’t know what to do with yourself. _You ain’t my problem! **Sophia wasn’t my responcibility! All you hadda do was keep an eye on her!**_ " Daryl shouted before storming off into his tent.

  
Daryl kept to himself the next day, avoiding everyone. He was just keeping his own little camp up and running, he even got his necklace of ears back. Lord only knows where he found it and why Rick hadn’t disposed of it yet. But everything was going better. Until he heard some horrific cries from down the hill he had been on. Grabbing his crossbow up with his new bolts he made of wood and bird feathers, Daryl sprinted down the hill into the field, just to find the culprit of the screams. Dale. He was being attacked by a walker, his stomach had been torn open by the geek, there was blood everywhere. Daryl tackled the walker off of Dale and stabbed it in the head before checking on Dale. He didn’t look good.   
"Hold on man." He muttered softly, waving his hands to the others when he heard them aproaching. "Over here! Help!" He cried, and everyone rushed over. Andrea tried to soothe Dale as Rick called for Hershel. But when Hershel arrived, he said that Dale wouldn’t make it..   
"No!" Rick cried out, running his hands over his face.  
"He’s suffering." Andrea pointed out. With a nod from Shane, Rick drew his gun and pointed it at Dale. But he couldn’t do it. This wasn’t like Sophia. Dale was still alive. The gun was grabbed out of his hand, and he didn’t even care who took it, turning away for a moment.  
Now armed with the gun, Daryl crouched down and aimed the barrel at Dale’s head. The man was a good man, he didn’t deserve to suffer.  
"Sorry brother." Daryl whispered as he pulled the trigger. Rick turned around, eyes wide to see it was Daryl with the gun. But Daryl just handed it back and adjusted his angel wing vest over his jacket and sighed softly, walking off alone. He didn’t seem to be traumatized that he just put down a human being, but then again, Rick wasn’t surprised. Daryl had been through so much more than any of them. There was only so much you could deal with before you became numb to everything. He’d have to have a talk with the kid in the morning.

　

After Dale's funeral, Daryl could be found back at his little camp, sitting outside his tent. His thumb was stuffed in his mouth as he just stared off, but it was yanked away when Rick was approaching him. He stood up, turning his back to Rick, attempting to enter the tent.  
"Woah, hold up a moment Daryl." Daryl sighed, stopping.  
"Didn’t do nothin’." He was immediately defensive.   
"What? No, I just wanna talk."  
"Talk."  
"Well... Last night, what you did.."  
"Ain’t no reason you gotta do all the heavy liftin’." Daryl gave a one shouldered shrug, and Rick just stared down at the child. Shaking his head, he sat down a few feet from Daryl, leaning his arms on his knees that were propped up.  
"Daryl, you.. You’re acting.." Rick sighed. "I don’t even know how to explain it. You’re a kid, you shouldn’t be doing all of this. You need time to be a kid again." Daryl just barely looked over his shoulder at Rick.  
"This is my world, Rick. Survival. Taking hits and learning to get back up. Threats around every corner. I was never a kid." He admitted. "And don’t give me those sad eyes or I’ll spit in your _mouth_."  
"Daryl what the _fuck_."  
"I mean it."  
"But I think maybe you need to step down. Relax a bit."  
"You can baby Carl." Daryl turned to face Rick fully. "But I know what I’m doing. Don’t try and domesticate me, ok? Don’t treat me like a little kid. I _know_ what you people see, I know what I look like to you. A little kid. But trust me, I’m not. And that one accident with the horse shouldn’t make y’all view me as helpless. I’m not like _you_ or _them_ , but you’ve seen what I can do. I can handle myself. Don’t listen to Hershel. Don’t give me no damn babysitter. I can do just as much as you or Glenn or Shane. But if you can’t trust that, then I’m fuckin’ outta here. Simple as that."  
"Daryl--"  
"Not like I’m needed ‘round here anyway. Got the farm, you don’t need me hunting for your pathetic meals no more." Sad eyes fell onto the boy. Was that really how he was thinking?  
"You have a place in the group, you’ve _earned_ it."  
"No one else hadda earn their keep." Daryl pointed out with a hiss. "What the fuck does Carol do? Or Lori? Carl doesn’t do shit neither." Rick frowned, ready to defend the people Daryl was calling out.  
"Carol just lost her daughter--"  
"That she didn’t fuckin’ keep an eye on."  
"--And Lori and Carl are my _family_."  
"And _Merle_ was _mine_." Daryl marched up to Rick, just about eyelevel with the man. "He was all I ever had and you took him from me. You didn’t know him, nobody did. Just because he was drugged up doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy, just meant he was hurting. You’ve seen my back, his looks the same, Rick. He just doesn’t handle it well. Or at all. Blocks it out with everything he can find. I know there’s nothing we can do now, but family don’t mean _shit_."  
"Yes it _does_ , Daryl. And you can be apart of ours. If you just give it a chance."  
"And what happens when you don’t want me no more?!" Daryl snapped, turning away from Rick to hide the tears starting to form. He couldn’t cry in front of the other man, he wouldn’t prove he was a baby by breaking down in front of Rick. "Y’all just gonna throw me out, toss me aside? Don’t want no family, Rick. I ain’t worth it, and I don’t _want_ it."  
"Daryl--"  
"You gotta move everyone into the house, you heard Hershel this morning."  
Rick sighed, getting up. "Thank you."  
Daryl turned back around, looking up at Rick skeptically. "What for?"  
"Everything you’ve done for the group. For Carol and Sophia. If she hadn’t been in that barn this whole time, you would’ve found her."  
"Maybe.."

 


	10. Familiar Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house goes up in flames and the group runs into some rather unfriendly faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a poop update, but I hope it's good enough. I realize I've been neglecting this shit for far too long.

The thunder storm had been enough persuasion to get Daryl into the house with the rest of the group. He was soaked when he came inside, and if anyone objected, they didn't voice it. Glenn, Maggie, Beth, Jimmy and Carl were sitting around the table in the livingroom with the adults all lingering somewhere within the room.   
"Daryl." Carl called, motioning the younger child over. "Come play." Daryl was skeptical when he walked over, sitting in between Carl and Glenn.   
"Play what?"  
"Never have I ever." Glenn passed him a cup of juice. "It’s like a drinking game, but we have juice." He explained.  
"Sounds fuckin’ lame."  
"A little, but Beth, Jimmy and Carl wanted to play. Gotta keep it PG."  
Daryl scoffed. "How’s it go?"  
"Well," Beth started, "we take turns saying things we’ve never done. And if the others have done it, they take a drink. But if no one else has done it either, the person who said it takes a drink." Daryl rolled his eyes, but decided to give it a try. Not like he had much else to do.  
"I’ve never.. been to collage. As a student." Glenn started. And everyone around the table took a drink.  
"That one was easy." Maggie teased.   
"Fine, you go then." Glenn laughed.  
"I’ve never had my parents sign a note from the school saying I was bad." Carl was the only one who took a sip, and eyes went onto Daryl.  
"What?"  
"You gotta be truthful." Glenn pointed out.  
Daryl scowled. "I am."  
"’chu never been suspended before?" Shane asked from the chair.   
"’course I have."  
"Then your parents signed a paper for it."  
"Nope. Forged it. So technically they didn’t."  
"Woah, how’d you get away with that?" Carl was genuinely amazed, causing Lori to look less than impressed and Rick was trying to supress a grin.  
"Because the system is a joke!" Daryl exclaimed. "They suspend me, because I’m a piece of shit. Then they give me a paper saying I’m said piece of shit. And then I’m supposed to get my parents to _sign it_?! Why the fuck would I do that?! I’m a piece of shit!" Daryl scoffed a laugh. "For the life of me, I don’t know why they didn’t just call the house." He sunk into his shoulders as laughter erupted around him. He wasn’t sure if what he said was actually funny to these people, or they were laughing _at_ him. So he kept quiet.  
"That something Merle taught’chu?" Shane asked once the laughter had died down.  
"Uhuh. He taught me lots’a stuff. Ain’t gettin’ into it though. Only when it’s important."  
  
"I’ve never done anything I’ve regretted while totally wasted." Beth was next.  
"You’ve never been wasted." Maggie reminded, easing Hershel’s growing concern.  
"No, but I don’t have to." Beth confirmed.  
Glenn and Daryl both took a sip, causing Hershel’s family to just stare at Daryl.   
"Ain’t gettin’ into it." He waved it off.   
"I tried to swing dance with my grandma on christmas eve." Glenn revealed sheepishly. "Broke my elbow." And more laughter filled the room. They went a few more rounds until the cups were all empty, but somehow Daryl had just ended up feeling worse about himself. He hated this game. But he wouldn’t tell them that. It was getting late now, and Daryl decided to excuse himself to ‘take a piss’. Even though there was a bathroom inside and a working toilet, Daryl still preferred to go outside. Truth be told, he just wanted to be alone. Armed with his gun and crossbow, he exited the shelter of the farmhouse and entered the storm. He still felt too different from the group, he couldn’t laugh and joke with them, and any answer he gave earned him some funny looks he knew he didn’t miss from before the end of the world. So his little sancuary in the woods is where he’d retreat to, just for a little while. His boots sloshed through the mud, and the thunder roared loudly, but the storm wasn’t unwelcome. Daryl thought the rain was relaxing, especially in the scorching heat of a Georgia summer. Daryl stopped in the middle of the field and closed his eyes, turning his head upwards to let the cold rain hit his face. His hair was soaked flat now, but he didn’t care. He never cared what he looked like, how wet his clothes were. Appearances didn’t matter. He was a wild boy, and he would always be. Just because he was staying with these people didn’t mean he’d ever be like them. He knew it, they knew it. He was just waiting for himself to fuck up and get himself booted from the group. But he didn’t need to think about that right now.

  
Opening his eyes, Daryl continued on to the woods, but stopped dead in his tracks when lightening flashed and lit up the entire Greene Property. Right on the edge of the field stood an armada of walkers, all coming towards the farm. Daryl had never run so fast in his life. Dear god, he hadn’t seen them because his eyes hadn’t completely adjusted to the dark yet, and he hadn’t heard them because the rain was so loud. He could’ve been dead, hadn’t it been for that flash of lightening revealing the threat to him. He slipped in some mud and fell flat on his chest, just barely sparing himself from faceplanting. But soaked and now caked in mud, Daryl jumped to his feet and kept running. His side was on fire, still not healed from the arrow wounds days ago, and now being jostled around and strained so much wasn’t doing the injuries any favors. He slammed up the porch and threw himself througn the door. This caused everyone to jump, startled. Rick and Carol rushed to his side, picking him up.  
"Daryl what the hell happened?" Came Rick’s concerned tone.  
"Walkers!" Shane and T-Dog grabbed their guns, but Daryl flailed his arms. "No, it’s a fuckin’ _army_ , it’ll tear the damn house down. We gotta _go_!" And without hesitation, everyone was scrambling to gather everything they could and put it back in the vehicles as quick as possible before the herd had approached. Despite the slight panic, everything was going alr--  
  
**_BOOM!_**  
  
Nevermind. Thunder boomed and lightening struck the generator, causing that really _loud_ boom. The lights burst in little explosions and suddenly the house was on fire. It was full blown panic now, everyone scrambling for cars and flooring it. By then the herd had arrived at the house, and a few unlucky members of the group didn’t make it. Patricia, Jimmy, Andrea.. Daryl had been the last one out of the house. He didn’t dare look back at the burning building, taking off into the woods. He’d wait for the herd to pass, meet everyone back on the highway by morning with his motorcycle. He couldn’t get to it yet anyway. Now armed with his weapons and a flashlight, Daryl would locate a good tree to climb until it was safe. _Click_. Daryl stopped.   
"I swear to god if you shoot me." Daryl hissed out at the person behind him.  
"Oh, it’s just you.." Carl breathed a sigh of relief, lowering his gun. Daryl spun around to just barely make out the taller boy’s sillohette in the darkness.   
"Yeah, jus’ me. You didn’t leave with your parents?" Daryl motioned for Carl to follow, crossbow now drawn after handing the other boy the flashlight.   
"No, I ran out here. Too many of them to make a run for the car I saw Shane getting into." Carl explained, following behind Daryl. "Where do we go?"  
"I was gonna climb a tree, spend the night and meet the group at the highway by the sign we rigged for Sophia."  
"We’ll stick with that plan then." Carl nodded in approval, as if he had any say to begin with. They trudged silently through the wet muck that had become the forest floor until Daryl had found a suitable tree that would hold them both. It was a pain in the ass getting Carl up there, but with some guidence from Daryl, he made it up alright.  
  
"We’re really high up." Carl observed a little nervously.  
"Yeah." Daryl agreed. "But we’re safe. Sa _fer_ than if we were down there. The herd should be rolling by soon."  
"They’re coming through here?!"  
" _Yes_. And we’ll make it through undetected if we _shut up_ and don’t make a sound. They can’t get up here anyway, but they won’t linger if we stay quiet." Daryl was stern, glaring the older boy down. "Which means no popping off your gun unless I give you the ok."  
"Who made you boss?" Carl asked a little defiantly.   
"Because I’m one of the adults." Was Daryl’s response, one Carl was none too pleased with.  
"No you’re not. You just act like it, and then everyone listens to you. I act like an adult and I get yelled at." Pouted Carl, leaning against the tree.  
"No, you try to act like an adult. You’re too impulsive though. You don’t _think_. Survival isn’t a _game_. The choices you make, they all count. Even the tiniest ones like if you go left or right, eat canned peaches or cooked squirrel."  
"It’s hard. How do you do it, anyway?"   
"Jus’ always have." Daryl was vague about it on purpose, legs swinging as they dangled from the branch. It was a long period of silence before the faint growns and growls of walkers could be heard through the storm. Daryl didn’t even notice his breathing hitched, or his hyperventalating until Carl had carefully pulled the boy into his arms. Daryl tried to object silently, but soon just leaned back against the taller boy and allowed himself to be held for once while the herd passed beneath them. It was unsettling, watching possible death pass below them, but Daryl and Carl both had gotten through it. An hour or so had passed before they finally deemed it safe to climb down to the ground and start back towards the farm. The flames were still visible, and lit up the sky in a dark orange above the trees. It wasn’t hard to find the way back. The sight of the burning Greene house unnerved Daryl. It reminded him of his own house a few years back, his momma. Sure, his momma was trash at being a momma, but he still missed her sometimes.   
"I don’t think it’s safe to head back yet." Daryl decided once they were out of earshot from anything dangerous. "Maybe we can just spend the night in the barn."  
"I’m all for that idea." Carl agreed, and both boys raced to the barn, deciding to stay up in the rafters where it was cleanest.   
  
Hay beds were so much more comfortable than their cots. Albiet, more itchy. But it was dry too. Stripped down to just shirts and underwear to let their clothes dry, Daryl and Carl relaxed side by side, the flashlight propped up and shining on the ceiling between them, stuck in some hay to make it stand.   
"You got anything to eat? Probably not, but I’m starving." Carl broke the silence.  
"Uh, I might." Dary sat up and held the flashlight between his teeth as he began to dig through his backpack. The packaged cookies from that one elderly woman, ‘granny wanna start shit’ from back at the nursing home came into view. He pulled them out and flopped back down, replacing the flashlight. "Couple cookies."  
"Cookies?!" Carl perked up. "Where’d you get cookies?!"  
"Some old bag back at the nursing home when we was looking for Merle." He explained, yanking the plastic package open and slipping Carl one of the two cookies, nomming on his own.  
"They’re stale." Carl scrunched up his nose after taking a bite.  
"Are they?" Daryl asked, inspecting his cookie like that would tell him any different.  
"Yeah, you don’t taste it?" Still, Carl would eat his cookie anyway.   
"Never tasted any different. Food’s always stale. Even b’fore this."  
"That must’ve sucked."  
"I never noticed. It was just food. It was better than having to hunt for it."  
"Didn’t your parents ever go to the grocery store? Buy actual food?"  
"No." Daryl replied a little grimly. "My momma and daddy didn’t do much b’sides drink and smoke. I wasn’t even ‘posed’a be born. You seen how much older Merle is than me. Lot older. Maybe 30 years. There were rumors going around town that Merle was actually my daddy, and that he was just a deadbeat so my grandparents took care’a me. Wasn’t true though. Just a drunken mistake. Whoops."  
"Well, we’d all be walker food right now if it wasn’t for you." Carl pointed out. "Probably would’a starved too. Since the farm isn’t a good place to stay anymore with the fences torn down and the house burning and the animals all out and probably long gone, we’ll need you to start hunting again."  
"Shane wanted to kick me out." Daryl admitted. "At the CDC. He threatened it."  
"What? Why’d he do that??" Carl shifted onto his side to look at Daryl.  
"Drunk, I guess. I know he doesn’t like me though."  
"Maybe because you don’t need to depend on him? Shane liked being the one everyone turned to, and then you and Merle showed up like two walking survival handbooks. You don’t need anyone. And maybe Shane feels... threatened by that?" Daryl took these words into consideration, but shook his head.   
"I think he thinks I’m just redneck trash."  
"Well you’re not. Even though you do get on everyone’s nerves, you’re not _trash_."   
"Thanks. I think?"   
Carl laughed, finishing his cookie. "You gonna sleep?"  
"We both should, nothing’s getting up here."  
"You think Merle’s still alive?"   
"Of course."  
"How?"  
"Spite."  
"Sounds like him." Carl laughed. The flashlight was soon turned off, and the boys drifted off to sleep, a little closer than they started off due to the cold night and lack of clothes. They weren’t on top of each other, but their sides were touching, just barely sharing body heat.   
  
Their clothes were cold and damp by the time they awoke at first light, but it was more comfortable than the small lakes in their boots like last night. Daryl lead the way out of the barn, finding the house barely smoldering. Half of it was still there, and that was good enough for looting. Daryl had room in his backpack for food and supplies, so he stuck Carl out on guard while he went in and scavenged the food. Carl objected at first, but Daryl informed him that there was no use in the both of them getting crushed if the rest of the house came down. So he obliged, and Daryl searched through to grab some of Hershel’s medical supplies and whatever canned and packaged goods he could fit in his bag before it was completely full. Only one plank of wood came down and almost clocked him on the head, but he jumped back and just barely avoided it, though the grazing from Andrea’s bullet had begun to ooze out blood again. So these medical supplies would come in handy sooner than he thought. A new patch of gauze, at least. Daryl regrouped with Carl and after fixing his head - again - he and Carl made it up to his motorcycle. Half of his backpack’s contents went into the saddlebags, and soon they were on their way back to the highway.  
"You remember the way?" Carl asked, sitting passenger on the bike.   
"Jus’ a few miles this way. I drove here the morning after you got shot. Lead the rest of the group."  
"That’s pretty cool." Carl smiled, looking around. But the smile disappeared as quick as it came. "What if they’re not there?"  
"Surely someone has the sense to think to regroup there. If not, they’re holed up in some house nearby." Daryl explained with confidence. "Those Greene girls, especially crazy Beth there won’t make it out on the roads. Not yet."  
"Beth ain’t crazy." Carl defended.  
"She tried to kill herself." Daryl scoffed. "Cut her wrist. If she really wanted to die, she’d snag a gun and stick the barrel in her mouth."  
"Don’t say that!"  
"We’re all dealing with the same shit, Carl! I know she just lost her momma, but we all gotta look out for ourselves. And if one of us is going off the deep end, that could mean danger for the rest of us. It’s... hard to put into words. She needs to decide if she’s gonna live or die. She can’t just decide and then injure herself and then change her mind. Don’t work like that no more."  
"She was just having a hard time.."  
"She best not do it again. Once can slide, I ‘pose."  
  
When they made it to the highway, no one was there, and the supplies they had left for Sophia was gone. Daryl slowed the bike to a stop and the both of them got off, heading to the empty hood of the car that still read a sign for Sophia.   
"I think they were here." Daryl observed, erasing the note for Sophia so he could help write his own. "We’ll have to find a place to stay if they don’t get back by sundown." Carl was looking around the familiar highway, a frown on his face. "What do we do without my dad or my mom or Shane?"  
"We _survive_. That’s what we do. You can’t keep relying on the adults to ensure your own survival anymore." Carl just nodded. Daryl drew an arrow and a sheriff hat on the windshield of the car. Simple.   
"Why not just a note?"  
"Jus’ don’t feel right. I want ‘em to know we’ve been here though."  
"Why don’t it feel right?"  
"We’re two small people. If a group of adults decided to wait for us here, then we’d be screwed. Or you, anyway."  
"Why me?!"  
"Cuz you can’t fight for shit." Daryl explained with a one shouldered shrug.  
"What if they think we’re dead? You know, after the whole Sophia thing, what if they’ve given up hope with lost kids in the woods?"  
"I doubt your parents and Shane would even think about doing that, but we’ll find ‘em. It’s a big group of people, people we know the habits of. Shouldn’t be too hard to track ‘em down. We know how they think."  
"Fort Benning?"  
"That’s probably our best bet." Daryl agreed.  
  
And so they waited, checking cars here and there. There were a few walkers to put down, but Daryl taught Carl how to do it without a gun. A kick to the knee to knock it over, and then stab it right through the head as soon as the fucker hit the ground. And Carl perfected the technique after his second attempt.   
"Want one?" Daryl offered a cigarette to Carl after he found a pack and lighter under one of the seats of a big ol’ SUV.  
"What? No! You aren’t gonna smoke those, are you?!" Carl panicked. Daryl just placed a cig between his lips and lit it up, taking a drag. "You’re crazy!"  
"Just a fuckin’ cigarette." Daryl scoffed, pulling it from his lips to release the smoke.   
"You smoke a lot?" Carl asked, watching the younger boy with the cigarette.  
"It’s become more of a habit when I get nervous. It’s calming. I dunno why. Merle lets me have one after a freakout."  
"That’s irresponsible."  
"So what?" Daryl scoffed, heading back to his bike to lean against. Carl followed, just eyeing Daryl. What an interesting kid.  
"How do you act so grown up, anyway?"  
"Because being naive can get you killed. I had to grow up quick. There was no room for being a kid, not when I had to take care of myself."  
"I thought Merle took care of you."  
"A little. But he was in jail a lot."  
There wasn’t much important conversation after that, just Carl talking about school and videogames, and Daryl taking in as much of the childhood he completely missed out on as he could. He envied Carl for being able to be a regular kid, but under the circumstances they have now, he’s glad to be the one to know what they’re doing. The stories Carl told were all great, and he even got a bit of information on Shane and Rick as well. Not useful now, but down the road it could be. And Daryl told Carl how he and Merle let pigs loose in a grocery store and scammed these bikers out of a few hundred bucks at a bar playing pool, and then the story of how Merle got a 6 year old into said bar. It was a relaxing day.   
  
"Carl!" It was Rick’s voice. He and Shane were now running towards both boys as it was nearing sundown, just before Carl and Daryl were getting ready to turn in.  
"Dad! Shane!" Carl jumped off the hood of the car they sat on and ran towards both men who hugged him tightly. Daryl felt that all too familiar emptiness in his chest as he saw how happy Shane and Rick were to be reuinited with Carl.  
"Where were you guys?" Daryl asked, getting up on his knees. The two men finally seemed to acknowledge Daryl, Rick still grinning like a relieved idiot.   
"We headed back here last night, only to find out that you two were missing." Shane explained, letting go of Carl after patting his head. "So we went and found a house to hole up in for the night and then Rick and I scouted back to the farm first thing."  
"It’d been looted, and it looked like a couple of people had slept up in the rafters of the barn." Rick added.   
"We did."  
"And all your stuff was missing, so we assumed you went back for it."  
"I got everything I could carry. Food, med supplies. All in my backpack and bike." Daryl shrugged.  
"We climbed a tree, dad! The herd went right under us! And Daryl got scared but I hugged him and he was ok!" Carl exclaimed excitedly.  
"I was _not_ scared!" Daryl hissed out, offended.   
"You started doing that breathing thing again!" Carl pointed out.  
"Doesn’t mean I was scared! That just.. happens? I don’t know, shut up."  
"Alright, alright." Shane diffused the situation. What an odd sentence. "We best get you boys back. Lori, Carol and Glenn were losing their damned minds."  
"You two definitely were too~" Daryl teased, hopping off the car and onto his bike. Carl got on behind him. "Ain’t pickin’ up hitch hikers."  
"I am _not_ walking all the way to wherever the new camp is." Carl huffed.   
"Wimp." Daryl scoffed, starting up the bike.   
  
He drove slowly, alongside Rick and Shane as they headed back to their camp. It was dark out once they reached the house, and Lori came sprinting out and attacked Carl with affection before the kid even got to the door. Carl only hugged his mother right back, repeatedly assuring that he was fine. Daryl just grunted at everyone and headed into the house after parking his bike. He wasn’t in the mood for a welcome party, what he was in the mood for was water. And plenty of it. He gulped down nearly a whole flask once he got his hands on one, and he could’ve downed maybe six of them. But he needed to be curtious and save some for the others too. He passed out a few cans he’d scavenged from the Greene house and soon ended up passing out, head in Glenn’s lap as the young man entertained everyone with a pizza delivery gone wrong story. Naked men, angry dogs, and being at the no no end of a gun.   
  
The next morning they were on the move again. They'd stay off the main roads to avoid any walkers, keep out of town. So that meant looting and hunting on the way to Fort Benning. Daryl insisted that it was most likely overrun at this point, but Shane only told him to shut the fuck up, and that was the end of that. So Daryl kept to himself, seeing as his opinion on the matter didn't mean a damn thing. He just kept up his hunting for the group, purposely returning back to the group at odd times to make them address how much they actually _need_ him. They couldn't boot him then, since they'd go starving. And hell, he brought dumb ol' Carl back to his momma and daddy. Daryl was doing alright by them all now. Though Hershel still voiced that Daryl needed a babysitter, Daryl continued to go off on his own and return no worse for wear. This soon silenced Hershel about the matter, seeing as no one was going to listen or enforce it anyway, not that anyone really could when Daryl had the tendency to be there one minute and disappear the next.   
  
Glenn decided to accompany Daryl on a hunt early in the morning a few weeks later, as they were getting closer to Fort Benning.   
"It’s a fuckin’ mistake, I’m tellin’ ya." Daryl had scoffed, breaking the silence after a good couple hours of hunting with Glenn. "That military base has gotta be overrun by now. You’ve seen how places like that go down quickly." But Glenn just gave a shrug.   
"It’s still possible though."  
"Like the CDC?"  
"Hopefully not as scary as that, no." Glenn gave a nervous laugh, one that made Daryl roll his eyes. Glenn was such a puss sometimes, it kind of annoyed Daryl.  
"I just have a bad feeling about this, y’know? Shane and Rick... their calls haven’t _ever_ been the best."  
"You’re right... But there isn’t much we can do about it."  
"Stand with me."  
"Daryl, I can’t."  
"We can change their minds."  
"No, we _can’t_."  
" _Dale_ would’ve stood with me."  
"Daryl..." Glenn sighed, holding the bridge of his nose. _"Don’t."_  
"Whatever." Daryl resumed their hunt in silence. A few rabbits and a dozen squirrels were all they managed to grab. It was pathetic, but all the buck were somewhere else today. Too far away to get a lead on. But it was fun watching Glenn get squeamish whenever Daryl shot an animal. Especially when it got pinned to a tree by an arrow. That was the most uncomfortable for Glenn. Hell, it was hilarious. Daryl even laughed as Glenn managed to actually get physically sick from it.  
"You’re banned from these fuckin’ hunts." Daryl grinned at the older of the two, stringing up the now dead squirrel to the rope on his shoulder. "You’re such a fuckin’ pussy."  
"It’s just.. gross."  
"Geeks are grosser. Get used to it."  
"Those are _already dead_ though."  
"Well so are these."  
"Oh my god." Glenn recovered slowly, and it was just sundown when they began heading back. "Hey, you said we were going to be _back_ by sundown. Not just _heading back_." Glenn frowned, keeping in step with the child.  
"Yeah, but then they wouldn’t care."  
"What?"  
"I need them to know they depend on me, Glenn."  
"Oh. Why?"  
"Shut the fuck up and walk, Chinaman."  
"Korean."  
"Koreaman doesn’t have as nice a ring to it."  
"Asshole." Glenn scoffed, following Daryl back to camp.  
  
What they weren’t expecting when they returned was an ambush. There were heavily armed men surrounding their group outside the house they made their camp for the night, their people disarmed completely, hands in the air in surrender. A snapped twig under Glenn’s foot brought the attention to the both members returning, both having their weapons raised on the men who had their group hostage.  
"Drop ‘em!" One ordered.   
"Y- _you_ drop ‘em!" Glenn attempted, and Daryl fought back a sigh. Fuck you Glenn.  
"Glenn, just do it!" Maggie cried out, afraid for her dumb boyfriend. Glenn’s hold on the gun was shaky, but it was Daryl who lowered his weapon first, or rather, dropped it altogether, along with the rope of rodents and broke into a full sprint.  
"Merle!" He cried out, running to the figure that was unmistakably his older brother. The figure had turned around, which had indeed been Merle. The older Dixon brother let his own weapon slip to the ground and dropped to his knees as Daryl ran into his arms, clinging to his older brother as tightly as he could. Merle was mindful of the knife attached to the bayonette that replaced his hand, or, covered where his hand _used to be_ , hugging his baby brother back almost as tight. His fingers curled into Daryl’s dirty hair, pressing his lips against the boy’s forehead, ignoring the audience they had.   
"Hey kiddo." Merle greeted softly against Daryl’s forehead, giving a soft smile. A side of Merle no one had ever seen before, and one they wouldn’t see too often if ever again. "Long time no see, huh Baby Brother?" He pulled Daryl back by the back of his vest to get a good look at the boy. He was definitely skinnier, but still dirty like he usually was. Because that was just Daryl. "Y’all are skinnier than a knobby knee’d lil’ girl, son. These people leavin’ enough food for ya?" He asked, voice full of concern.  
"Game has been scarce." Daryl shrugged a boney shoulder, wiping his eyes. He wouldn’t cry. Not even happy tears. He wasn’t a baby.  
  
" _This_ is your brother?" A very, very tall man had approached Merle. He was so tall, like three feet taller than Daryl. The younger boy was immediately defensive, raising his knife, but Merle just plucked it out of his brother’s hand with a "no".   
"Yeah, why?"  
"You described an expert marksman and hunter, someone we could have on our army. I never pictured a _child_." The man expressed his displeasure, only causing Merle to chuckle.   
"He’s an impressive one, I’ll tell ya that. Ain’t like any kid you’ve ever seen." He boasted.   
"Can you get these fucking guns off us?" Shane hissed out, losing his patience.   
"Can you pipe the fuck down, melon head?" Merle hissed back. And Daryl snorted a laugh, seeing he wasn’t the only one who thought Shane looked like a melon with a shaved head. The tall man had signaled for the other men to lower their guns.   
"So?"  
"I say we take ‘em back to Woodbury." Merle grinned. "Have ourselves a little reuinon party. And possibly an _exicution_." Merle sent a dastardly smile over towards Rick, but it was wiped away when Daryl swatted him on the stomach.   
"We’ll talk about the roof incident later." He insisted, and Merle agreed with a nod.   
_"We will."_  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully another chapter will go up this weekend.


	11. Woodbury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group arrives at Woodbury, and Daryl immediately is skeptical of The Governor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very Daryl-Oriented chapter. The story is Daryl-Oriented, but the group doesn't really make an actual appearance here.

Woodbury was beautiful, it was a reglar town inside the walls built around it, with people sipping lemonade and kids playing, like the threat of death wasn't lurking just on the other side. A community. Rick's group was lead inside by the man they learned is called The Governer, which Daryl had audibly scoffed at, earning him a smack upside the head by Merle. He shut his mouth after that, not needing to anger his older brother the first day he had him back. Even allowed himself to be carried back on Merle's shoulders. He truly let himself relax now that Merle was here, because everything was better when Merle was here, his troublesome big brother always fixed everything in his own way.  
  
"What the hell is this place?" Glenn asked once they got through the gates.   
"Welcome to Woodbury." The Governer announced, looking rather pleased with himself at his little community. "We have food, shelter, _schooling_." He shot a smile to Carl and Daryl, who both rolled their eyes. Like they wanted any fucking school. No, they really didn’t. But they both knew they wouldn’t have a choice. Because the overbearing adults in their life wouldn’t let them go stupid.   
"Don’t need no school. Need gun training." Daryl remarked, talking back much to Merle’s displeasure. "Well, they do."  
"Nonsense." Phillip’s creepy grin never let up, and Merle lifted Daryl from his shoulders and placed him down. "You’ll all be safe here." Their weapons had already been confiscated, save for Daryl’s crossbow and hunting knife Merle convinced Phillip to let him keep.  
"Nowhere is safe." Daryl argued. "Just _safer_." Phillip gave Merle a look, and Merle gave a nod, grabbing Daryl’s arm in a bruising grip that meant _shut the fuck up_. It was an all too familiar hold, and Daryl struggled to not squirm away from the pain. He just stood there, eyes on the man who claimed to be in charge of them all now.   
  
Shortly after, they were all escorted to a vacant building of apartments they could all stay in, families sticking together. T-Dog and Carol ended up with a place together, Glenn and Shane sharing as well. Daryl was dragged back to Merle’s place and thrown to the floor the second the door closed.  
"Don’t y’all be runnin’ lip." He threatened and Daryl scrambled back to his feet. "That man can be yer best friend or yer worst fuckin’ enemy. And I’m on his good side right now, which is good for _you_. You can have a fuckin’ life here, Daryl. Just shuddup and do as you’re told." He scolded, flopping down on his red sofa for a moment’s relaxation.  
"This place ain’t safe, walls won’t hold." Daryl stared out the window, huffing at all the happy people below.  
"It’ll be renforced."  
"Waddaya doin’ here, Mer? This ain’t us."  
" _What_ ain’t us?"  
" _This._ This fuckin’ little community shit. These people won’t fuckin’ like us an’ you know it. Prolly jus’ usin’ ya."  
"Course they are." Merle glared at his baby brother. "Ain’t a doubt in my mind they ain’t. We’ll get through this, got it?" And all Daryl could do was nod. He may not trust _The Governer_ , but he did trust Merle. He trusted Merle with his goddamned life.   
  
"About Rick." He started after a long pause of silence. "’e didn’ mean’a leave ya there. He didn’t know you were still up there til’ halfway home. An’ then T-Dog said you was still alive, so Rick was goin’ back by mornin’. And that’s when I came back from my hunt and you weren’t there."  
"Am I supposed’a jus’ forgive the guy?" Merle scoffed a laugh, turning to look over at Daryl again.  
"Fuck no, I ain’t forgivin’ ‘im neither. I’m sayin’ jus’ don’ kill ‘im. Won’t sit well with the rest. An’ that don’ mean ya kill everyone, neither. Y’ain’t a killer." Merle let out a defeated sigh, gaze turning to the ceiling.   
"Relax, kiddo. I’s got shit under control."  
"Hope so. Cuz ‘m sick’a shit bein’... shit."  
"It’ll always be shit, little brother. Us Dixons, we’s were dealt a shitty hand in life. Gotta play the cards we got. Survive. No matter what."  
"Ain’t no point in survivin’ if ya can’t live with yerself." Daryl brought up, which made Merle groan irritably.   
"Can y’all jus’ go back’ta bein’ a baby who can’t speak a lick of anythin’? Gettin’ on my fuckin’ nerves, kid." Daryl just shrugged, heading into the bedroom to take the best fucking nap of his life.   
  
The bed was full sized queen, and the blankets seemed fresh. Well, as fresh as Daryl’s ever seen ‘em. And the comfort again would be weird, but it felt safe with that weird Merle sent in it. Grass, cigarettes, and a small mixture of blood and sweat, maybe a dash of alcohol. Merle. Something you’d never want in a colonge, but it smelled nice in the weirdest way. Familiar, he guessed it. So stripping down to his tank top and skibbies, he climbed into bed, hunting knife in his grasp, and fell asleep.  
  
The nap was far from the best, he fucking hated it. He woke up dehydrated, with a headache, and alone. Quickly grabbing his crossbow and getting dressed, Daryl dashed out the door.   
"Where’s Mer?" Daryl asked T-Dog when he made it outside, a small group of woodbury residents chatting up some of his group. But they all turned, giving Daryl funny looks. He only scowled at them, awaiting his answer.  
"Disappeared with that governer dude a while ago. Talkin’ bout headin’ out." Daryl gave a nod, rushing towards the gates. He grinned when he saw Merle and a few guys, slinking up next to him.  
"Woah there, kiddo! Where y’all think you’s goin’?" Merle glanced down at his eager younger brother, who glared up at him in return. "Jus’ found ya. Y’all ain’t leavin’ again." And Merle just gave a shrug, turning back to Phillip for the rest of his instructions.   
  
"Want’cha t’stay here with Phillip." Merle motioned to the governer once he was done speaking. And Daryl was immeditaely skeptical.   
"Why?"  
"Don’ ask questions." Merle scolded, heading off with his team with a wave. Daryl sighed, waving back hesitantly.   
"Daryl, is it?" Phillip smiled down at Daryl, something eery and undeniably fake. But he wasn’t the only one who knew how to put on an act. Daryl bobbed his head forwards in a silent nod, following Phillip as he gestured him to do so. They walked through the lively streets of Woodbury, people so happy it made Daryl cringe inwardly. He hated it. It was so unfamiliar, and it was just fucking unsettling. "You’re eight, huh?" Phillip asked, looking back at Daryl.  
"Yessir." Daryl muttered, keeping up his gaurd.   
"My daughter’s eight." He related, posture shifting oh so slightly. His shoulders hardly slouched, but Daryl immediately knew it was a touchy subject. "Her name is Penny. And my right hand man, my advisor. Milton Mammet, he’s working on a cure."  
"CDC said there weren’t no cure." Daryl stated bluntly. If there was anything in this world Daryl was done with, it was dead daughters.   
"When there’s a will, there’s a way. Of _course_ there’s a cure. You can’t have a disease without a cure."  
"I’m not sure it works that way."  
"Well, I suppose someone as young as yourself wouldn’t fully understand the happenings around you."  
"I understand ‘bout as good as you do." Daryl defended, voice stern, despite sounding so young and naive.  
  
"You’re fiesty, aren’tcha? Merle said you had a real fighting spirit. But he never explained that you were but a child."   
"Obviously it wasn’t an important detail."  
"Well, it sort of was. Now we need to work schooling into your schedule, as well as gun training and WSD."  
"WDS?"  
"Walker Self Defense."  
"Sounds like ya teachin’ ‘em geeks how’ta fight _us_ off." And Phillip chuckled, though Daryl couldn’t tell if it was genuine or not. It was just... unnerving. "’sides, don’ need no school. Fuckin’ arithmatics ain’t gonna help me survive."  
"Well when this is all over, or when we figure out how to completely cope in this world, we’ll need to get back to our old ways."  
"Another guy with all his useless hopin’ an’ prayin’. Ain’t never gonna be like it was."  
"You are not very positive, are you?"  
"Positivity and foolishness ain’t the same." And at that, Phillip turned and grinned at him, causing Daryl to freeze in place. That wasn’t a grin he wanted.  
"You don’t trust me, do you?"  
"Only known ya ‘bout ten minutes. Bet y’all don’ trust me, neither."  
"I do."  
"Well that’s your fuckin’ mistake, not mine." Daryl’s eyes narrowed up at the man, refusing to back down. And Phillip’s grin only widened.   
"I’d like to talk to you more privately."  
"You scream subtlety." But Daryl followed anyway.  
  
The Governer’s private quarters were nothing to brag about. Sure, it was _nice_ , but not Daryl’s definition. Maybe it was a lot nicer than his own home was, but Daryl didn’t care much about homes. The woods were his home, and nothing would ever beat that.  
"You don’t plan on staying, do you?"  
"Not for long, no." Daryl had removed his crossbow from his shoulder, pointing it away from Phillip to look through the scope, but really it was out just in case he needed to defend himself. He didn’t trust this man, not one bit.   
"Merle is."  
"Not if he knows I’m going."  
"They’ll only drag you down, Daryl." Daryl frowned, removing his face from the scope to look up at Phillip. "I mean it. They can’t get along, agree on anything. They put up quite a fuss while you were asleep in Merle’s apartment, angry about the loss of their weapons."  
"Cuz y’all got that dinky ass fense that won’t hold off a herd. Wouldn’t wanna lose mine neither."  
"Disagreements will get you killed."  
"We ain’t all gonna be in perfect sync. And I ain’t cowerin’ and hidin’ behind some _guy_ who decided to declare ‘imself ‘in charge’." He was definant until the end. He’d have to be. He couldn’t give in. That’s how he trapped himself. And trust wasn’t something he was willing to just give out.   
"You’re too smart for your own good."  
"So this is the part where ya kill me?"  
"Wha-- _no_." Phillip raised his hands in a mock surrender. "I want to see what you can do out there. Killing you isn’t necessary."  
"It ain’t beneath you, either."  
"Don’t make such brash assumptions, child."  
  
"My group an’ I are movin’ out first light. Merle too."  
"I thought Rick made those decisions."  
"He prolly thinks so too."  
"He wants a safe place for his son, his wife, the baby. That man Hershel also wants his daughter safe."  
"Ain’t never gonna be safe. They’ll get over it."  
"They never mentioned a safe place for _you_." Daryl cringed outwardly now. He wasn’t having this conversation. But the man only continued. "Hell, you weren’t even mentioned, considered. The youngest, smallest of the group, and they don’t seem to give a damn about you. Merle told me how they think you two are freaks. Outcasted the two of you since day 1."  
"Ain’t y’all’s business." Daryl grunted out, feeling that familiar sinking sensation in his stomach whenever he felt unwanted.   
"I’m just asking, why stay with them?"  
"Why stay with anyone? Nowhere is better. Nowhere is safe. Nowehere ever _was_." And with that, Daryl turned and walked out, making sure to leave the door open. He didn’t feel like being polite and closing it, make this fuckboy do it himself. He was fuckin’ outta here. He needed to find Merle and they’d ditch this place. Maybe even the group, too. If they wanted to stay in this fucking _cage_ that’s practically dangling food over the geeks’ stupid fucking heads, let them. They didn’t care what happened to him, he don’t care what happens to them, neither.   
  
Sneaking out of Woodbury wasn’t very hard. He just climbed the fence at one of the less gaurded areas and disappeared into the woods. He’d go around, deciding to put his brain to use and try to think like his brother. Moving silently through the woods, Daryl decided that they’d be heading towards town, the closest one, to scavenge. A place this big needed more than just a hunter, Daryl was sure of it. He pushed the angry thoughts of his group to the back of his mind and settled on finding Merle. Mostly to scold him for leaving him with that freak, but also so they could blow this place, live in the woods, and survive together. Pa was gone. Sure, there was another threat now, but it wasn’t as unpredictable or hard to escape from as Pa had been. Less complicated too. Shot through the brain. Simple. Pa had also been a simple shot to the brain, but it’s not like they could really do that before when there were all these bullshit laws in effect. Sure as hell never really stopped Pa from beating on them, but killing him for some reason wasn’t ok. Whatever.  
  
Walking for hours, Daryl hadn’t expected to come across a large prison. The yard was full of geeks, most in prison uniform. But hell, it looked _perfect_. Better than that dinky wall, this place was made to keep people in and out. Concrete walls, large fenses, watch towers. It just needed to be cleared out. And that’s just what Daryl would do. Finding a long and thick enough stick, Daryl wittled it into a spear with his hunting knife and headed to the fences, beginning to stab the geeks through the head, slowly taking them out. He didn’t want to attract too many, no, that wouldn’t be a good idea. And wasting bolts wasn’t fucking happening. He’d use his knife, but he couldn’t exactly _reach_. Not fast enough like the makeshift spear was doing.   
  
When the sun began to set, and Daryl realized he’d been working all day, he turned and began heading back. But when he heard a vehicle speeding his way, he ducked into the bushes and watched as it went by. Merle’s truck. _Shit_. Once it was out of eyesight, Daryl broke into a sprint, hoping to get back before his brother would hound him for sneaking out. His little legs raced back the direction he’d come from, chest beginning to heave. He was so fucking tired from the day of walker stabbing, and now he was fucking sprinting. But he made it back within a couple hours, cut in fucking half from the walk on the way here. He made some good time. He scrambled over the wall, falling onto his hands and knees, heaving and wheezing, trying to ease his burning lungs. And oh _god_ he probably looked and smelled like shit. Walker guts always got everywhere, today was no exception. But there was no way in hell he was taking a shower. _No_.   
  
Once he pulled himself to his feet, Daryl debated on telling Merle about the prison or not. He wasn’t so sure he could really depend on Merle right now, being buddy buddy with Suburban Hitler here. He wanted to make sure it would be him and Merle, ruling this fucking prison. Not Phillip. He didn’t like Phillip, Phillip could rot in hell. Governor my _ass_ , Daryl wasn’t taking orders from this fruity haired freak. He stalked back to Merle’s building, stopping short when Merle turned to glare at him. Well, his absense was _definitely_ noticed.  
"And where have _y’all_ been?"  
"Took a walk."   
"They’s said you’s been gone since noon." Merle scolded, angry.  
"Ya never fuckin’ cared where I was b’fore, don’ matter now." Daryl muttered, and immediately knew that was a mistake.  
"Excuse me, y’all wanna run that by me again? Been takin’ care’a yer ass since y’all were in diapers, don’t gimme that lip."  
"Yeah, splains why ya were in jail most’a time." Daryl hissed out, shoving past Merle and darting upstairs. He wasn’t in the mood for Merle’s hero bullshit right now. He could shove it up his ass. Daryl just wanted to be alone and plot out some ways to take down walkers quicker to get that prison cleared.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously I'm sorry there are definitely mistakes in this bitch


End file.
